


By Any Means

by HappyBlueInk, untapdtreasure



Category: Carol Peletier - Fandom, The Walking Dead, Twd - Fandom, caryl - Fandom, daryl dixon - Fandom
Genre: Caryl, F/M, twd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 61,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyBlueInk/pseuds/HappyBlueInk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/untapdtreasure/pseuds/untapdtreasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
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</div>Daryl returns from his supply run for medicine that the prison desperately needs to find that Rick has banished Carol for killing Karen and David. He then sets out to find her. But when he does, what does he decide to do about the situation that she's placed herself in.
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a role play between myself (nolongeraxburden) and happyblueink (gunslingerdixon), and it was mutually decided upon to share with the rest of as a fanfiction. So here it is! Enjoy!
> 
> If y'all are interested in following us just go to: nolongeraxburden. tumblr .com or gunslingerdixon. tumblr .com
> 
> Also: we own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.
> 
> format for reading:  
> Daryl's POV 
> 
> \--//--  
> Carol's POV

Words fell on deaf ears when he'd come back to the prison. He had finished trying to save his neck from the biters to bring back the medicine when Rick had come up to him. Daryl watched as the sheriff kept averting his attention to the ground as he spoke, fingers hooked into his belt loops as he toed the ground. He understood why it had to be done, but he didn't want to accept that it was just that easy a decision to make without consulting anyone else. Daryl pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes running them back to his temples as he paced, chewing the inside of his cheek. This seemed like all too much like an unnecessary headache.

He stopped his pacing to glare at Rick, before nodding his head. "Fine. Go fetch 'er myself." He groused slinging his crossbow over his shoulder stalking off to grab his jacket. He'd find her and bring her back. No way a single decision like that would be so easily delegated as such.

Daryl shrugged into his leather jacket, draping his poncho over his shoulders. He secured his crossbow to the chopper, buckling his saddle bags down before swinging his leg over the seat. He placed the key in the ignition, revving the chopper to life. He let go of the clutch slowly as the bike took off slowly. He'd switched gears riding out of the prison and down the road. From what he knew Rick had gone to the nearest neighborhood which wasn't for another 20 miles. He'd start there, maybe find something.

He'd find her. He'd have to.

\--//--

Carol kept a hold of herself for several miles before her tears were pooling in her eyes and made it impossible to see the road in front of her. She was so hurt and empty inside. She lost her whole family after one misguided slip of judgment. She'd been doing what she thought was best. She really thought it would contain the virus and that it wouldn't spread to anyone else. To the children… She choked back a sob as she heard Rick's words echoing over and over in her head. She laid her head on the steering wheel and took several deep breaths.

She had to get herself together. She was truly alone now. She would forever be because she wasn't going to ever allow herself to get that close to anyone ever again. All it did was cause pain. And then and there for a single moment, she entertained the idea of just stepping out of the vehicle and feeding herself to the walkers. She didn't want to live without her family. She didn't want to go on without Daryl, Lizzie, and Mika.

But she was too weak for that. Her hands tightened on the wheel and for a second she stared at the stretch of road ahead of her. She'd need somewhere quiet to sleep. She'd have to find shelter soon enough. So she put the vehicle in gear and started rolling forward. She didn't once check the rearview mirror. You couldn't look back anymore. Life had to keep moving forward. She'd face this and anything else that came along by keeping her eyes forward.

The miles seemed to fall away behind her, and it was closing in on dusk when she finally saw a place to pull the car into and hopefully get a few hours of sleep before the walkers spotted her. She'd just have to make do with whatever food was in the back. There would be no getting out to forage for food or water in the dark. Never in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

A flurry of leaves kicked up as he rode down the lonesome highway into the quaint neighborhood. Daryl did a once over not seeing much beyond a pair of old tire tracks in a muddy puddle near the entrance of the cul-de-sac. He recognized the set of tire tracks that went in one direction which was en-route to the prison. He figured that had to be Rick and the other set likely Carol. He huffed, revving the chopper and riding along in the direction she had taken.

She was likely without a map and if he knew her well enough figured she would take main streets in case she got stranded. Land markers that she could refer to. Carol was good like that.

He frowned slightly thinking about what Rick had said. Carol had killed to protect the group. She had are a choice to attempt to keep the virus whatever it was from spreading. He may not like the idea that she had killed them, but it wasn’t like she was completely in the wrong neither. There was no right and wrong. A decision was made and she stood by it. It bothered him some that her choice had been to such lengths. He wondered where the woman he had watched grow had gone. This new Carol was calculating and strong. She wasn’t the meek quiet thing he had known from back at the quarry.

No, that woman was buried somewhere else. She’d died with her little girl long time ago.

Daryl pressed on. The sun was coming down on him and it would be a matter of time before the night would come and he’d have a harder time to find her. He needed to find a place to hunker down for the night. He’d keep going ‘till there was no more light.

He wouldn’t give up on her.

\- -

Carol jumped and twitched at every noise. She just didn’t know how to deal with quiet anymore. The prison was always busy and had some kind of noise going no matter what time of night. She moved, shifting into the passenger side seat and letting the seat back only slightly. She’d have to stay alert as well as quiet and get some rest at the same time. Moving around that neighborhood had been tiring, and then Rick had dropped the bomb on her. She wasn’t allowed back in the prison. Not with his children. He didn’t want here there.

After she’d forgiven him and trusted him and he’d killed people for no better reasons than her own had been, and she was the one that wasn’t to be trusted. She was the one that had kept her head after losing her only child to the walkers. She hadn’t lost it like Rick had over his wife, over Lori. She balled up her fists, beating them on the dashboard angrily. How dare he sit in judgement of her! She shook her head, knowing this was the only way she was going to survive in this world alone. 

And then she softened when she looked down at her wrist. Sophia’s ponytail holder, right where it always was. She reached down, snapping it slowly. She took a deep breath, pushing herself into the backseat and rummaging for something small to eat to quiet the growling in the pit of her stomach. She should have insisted that he take all the fruit and other food that they’d found back to the prison. She’d have survived on whatever she could find for herself, but she let Rick give her something. it would ease his mind at night a little when he tried to sleep. Or she hoped it would. He’d given her a fighting chance, and she’d given him the watch that meant nothing to her as a reminder that he left her out there alone. 

And finally after eating a tomato and small can of beanie weenies, she let her thoughts turn to Daryl. She remembered all the quiet conversations they’d shared over the past year plus, and how close they’d gotten without being anything more than friends. If she had one regret, he was it. It wasn’t enough time with him. And once he found out just what she’d done, he’d be glad she was gone. She’d be one less person he had to worry about, one less person to give his thoughts and care and attention too.

And it was only then that she let the tears fall for the man that had become her best friend through all this. Something she spent her whole life looking for and never had until the world was nothing but hell on earth.


	3. Chapter 3

He wanted to stop when the sun had come down but he didn’t. Daryl knew if he did, he wouldn’t find her. Shane’s words echoed in his mind of when Sophia had been lost. 48 hours. Carol wasn’t lost though. She was just gone. Weren’t like he could read her mind or anything. Probably a fool’s errand he was running, but that wouldn’t stop him. No. He wouldn’t just give up.

Daryl remembered when the walkers had taken the tombs that day in the prison. Lives that shouldn’t have been lost were taken from them in an instant. He’d chalked up Carol dead the minute he’d laid eyes on her pistol abandoned with no rounds on the ground. The scarf that was left behind had been the only remains of what he’d thought had been her. Not a single hair had been stuck in its threading. He remembered the dingy feel of its silken material between his fingers wondering why it’s warmth was gone. Why hadn’t he gotten there sooner?

But then he’d found her.

He’d paced the length of the hall several times after sending Carl and Oscar back to the cell block, her knife still clutched tight in his hand. Daryl knew that there was something hiding in the depths behind the door. He imagined a walker gnawing on one of her bones or her gnawing on something else, with those pale lifeless eyes he’d been accustomed to seeing all too often. He’d made a quiet resolve when he’d found the scarf, but then he’d found her. An underestimation of what she was capable of.

He wouldn’t make that same mistake. Daryl couldn’t afford to just let it go like before.

He’d continue despite the dying beam of his headlamp. The sun would come up soon enough. He just needed to keep going. There was no telling how long Rick had been at the prison before he’d shown up or how far she had traveled if she had traveled any further than a few miles of the area. No telling and no knowing.

He’d keep going till he couldn’t no more.

\- -

The need to relieve herself was so great that she had no choice after several hours of trying to sleep and hold it until the day dawned. She crept slowly from the comforts of the car, even if it had been stuffy and hard to breathe, and she’d wanted nothing more than to strip off her clothes and go naked because of the heat. She quickly moved about two to three feet from the car and squatted to relieve herself. She was out of the car no more than two minutes when she pulled the door closed quietly behind her. There would be no more sleeping for her that night. And so she was left alone again with her thoughts. 

She snapped the ponytail harder on her wrist to keep herself in check. She wasn’t going to break down again. She couldn’t. It served absolutely no purpose other than to let her resolve crumble all that much more. She laid back again, closing her eyes and just begging the day to dawn just a little more quicker than all the other days before. She was so lost in her prayers and begging that she almost didn’t make out the sound of an approaching engine. 

It sounded like a motorcycle, and more specifically Daryl’s motorcycle. Her head came up, spinning around to look out the dirty back glass for any signs of light or life other than the dead walking around. The sound disappeared, making her all that much more certain that she’d been letting her mind play tricks on her. He wasn’t coming. He was safe and sound back the prison with the others where he should be, where she wanted him to be. 

She fell back against the seat with a loud huff and propped her feet on the dash and put her head on her knees. It was times like these that she wished she had one of those ipod things that Rick and the others sometimes used when they had been farming close to the fences and needed to drown out the moans of the walkers that piled up at the fences. She needed something, anything to drown out her own thoughts.

It was only for a moment that she let herself wish that Daryl had come back to the prison, found her gone and heard Rick’s reasons, and that he had set out to look for her anyway. It was a romantic notion, and that’s when she had to shake her head. They were friends, best friends, but she’d killed two of their own. And it didn’t matter the reasons behind it. If Rick hadn’t accepted it, she couldn’t expect Daryl to either.

Then she heard the roar of an engine again. And this time, she wasn’t imagining it as she turned in her seat and saw the approaching headlights. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t risk his life or hers by coming out of her hiding spot just yet. She knew there was at least three walkers in the yard and that had only been her count before the sun had set. There could be more by then. She thought about honking the horn, but it could cause many more to come and find her. And put in danger whoever was out there at that time of night riding the roads on their motorcycle.

She wouldn’t allow herself to get her hopes up that it was Daryl. No. He was safe and sound back inside the prison wall. Where he needed to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Through bleary eyes Daryl continued riding along the cracked highway; lack of maintenance the road had decayed in a manner of speaking— potholes, crevices, and weedy underbrush growing through the asphalt. He shifted down a gear as he rode a little more slow taking care not to run into a pothole that would send him over the handlebars of the chopper. He’d seen it numerous times and it never ended well. Weren’t like a hospital would be able to stitch him back up neither if it did. He’d just be shit out of luck and he was already out of luck from what it seemed.

Every once in a while his eyes would linger on the gas gauge. The needle steadily moving towards the large bold ‘E’, but just hovering outside the range of concern.

It angered him slightly the more he thought about it. Carol could be out stranded somewhere and he would never know. How would he know? Hell, how did he already know she wasn’t already dead? Didn’t take much to get overrun and overwhelmed, especially on one’s own. He shook his head trying to rid his head of the thought as the chopper growl echoed loud into the night.

He’d been riding since a few hours before the sun had set and several more thereafter. Daryl really needed to find somewhere to settle in the night. His legs hurt and his body ached all over. He hadn’t had time to relax and make sure that the medicine got into their people. As soon as Rick had come up to him, Daryl had taken off. Didn’t give it more than a second’s thought before he knew he had to get Carol back.

It wasn’t even the fact that she had killed that bothered him so much. There were other things that had sent him off the edge that it was an obligation for him to find her. Bring her back maybe if she even wanted to come back. It was more why she couldn’t have trusted him with such information. After everything they’d gone through? And she didn’t think he would accept her train of thought on the matter?

It bothered him more than he would ever let on to any other, but from Carol it meant everything.

So lost in his thought, he hadn’t noticed the walker ambling about in the middle of the highway and immediately he swerved around it with ease narrowly missing an old station wagon parked alongside the road. He hadn’t seen any walkers for miles and a few of them had been precariously lingering about. Not thinking much of it Daryl came to a crawl on his bike before swinging around and headed back. He’d check out the area.

He killed the chopper not too far away, but enough to get an edge on the walkers milling about. He slung his crossbow to his shoulders, creeping up to the first with his knife in his hand. He made quick work of the two in the road dragging the bodies out of the way of any other cars possibly traveling then stalking quietly up to the car. He drew a deep breath not sure what to expect if anything at all.

He shouldn’t expect anything. Nothin’ at all.

\- -

Carol’s claustrophobia had been eased a bit from the ‘potty break’ but now she was back to analyzing every single sound she heard outside of the car. She hunkered down, eyes going in every direction, and almost even forgetting to even breathe. She heard the sound of something hitting the ground, and she told herself, almost scolding, “It was nothing.” Her voice was but a whisper, but it made her heartbeat quicken none the less. A person would go crazy only having their own self to talk to, and it had only been hours since her banishment as she liked to put it.

She heard another sounds and what sounded like something being dragged through the dead leaves and brush in the yard and her throat tightened. She wanted to scream. This was not the way she wanted to go out. She didn’t want to be killed by someone that was just trying to survive just like she was. She wanted to cover her face with her hands, but she instead squared her shoulders and just as she was about to open the door and climb out to face whatever was out there in the dark, his face came into view. 

"Daryl?" she breathed, eyes blinking. She was almost certain that she was imagining things, and she couldn’t at this point or she’d just have to end it herself right here and now. She couldn’t try and survive this world on her own living with the ghost of him to haunt her at every turn. She forced herself to swallow, throat raw. 

When the vision of him didn’t go away, she knew he was real. He was there. He’d come looking for her. She hadn’t let herself hope that he would, and now he was there. She pushed the door open, nearly tripping over her own feet as they were refusing to work. “Daryl…” Her voice was that of happiness and fear. She moved toward him, eyes watering and blinking them back as they began to blur her vision. “You fool. What are you doing out here? You’re going to get yourself killed!”


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl’s ears prickled at the sound of the car creaking and immediately his hands were drawn up, knife held up and other free hand tucked near his chin. He furrowed his brow not sure what to expect from the passenger of the vehicle. He weren’t sure if he should expect much at all beyond a scared person just wanting to be left alone.

He took a cautious step forward readying himself for when whomever or whatever clambered out of the station wagon. He was holding his breath in anticipation of what was to come. What if it was Carol and she’d already turned? Gotten caught up and left to die in some shitty car on the side of the road for him to find? No, he wouldn’t think like that. Times that he had, he’d been wrong and vice-versa. There could be no thinking like that, not when it was people he cared about.

The pop of the lock cut the silence that had stilled around him, not even the brush of leaves skating along the road from the breeze caught his attention. The door swung open and out stumbled the silver-haired woman he had grown to know over the past few years. Carol took a step towards him and he took a step back not quite fathoming that this was really happening. This couldn’t be that easy. Daryl had never had any luck finding people, Sophia and Merle had been friendly reminders of this. There was no way he found her alive.

Then she spoke and the knife he’d held high slowly lowered and he raised a brow at her. “Carol?” He growled taking another step back. His guts were twisting inside him and he wasn’t entirely sure why all of a sudden he felt a sudden surge of nervousness and anger towards her.

He gave her a once over, ticking off all check-marks of safety, nodding his head more to himself. “Could say the same ‘bout you.” He replied markedly at her, arms crossed over his chest.

\--//--

Carol wanted so badly to rush to him and take him in her arms, but she refrained. He shouldn’t have come. As badly as she had wanted and needed him to have come, she knew he shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have risked his life. Not for her. Not anymore. She took a step back herself, torn in two with what to do. “Daryl…” she whispered once. Then repeated much stronger. “Daryl, you shouldn’t have come.”

She lowered her head, feeling shame for the first time since the whole thing happened. She breathed, “Rick cast me out. I’m on my own now. He made a choice, made a decision.” She refused to cry. She wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t going to let him know that the sight of him after thinking she never would again, had shaken her to the very core. 

"They need you back there. At the prison." Her eyes moved up then. "Lizzie. Mika…" Her throat tightened. She leaned heavily against the car, bending as she felt the air was being knocked from her at the realization of what her actions had brought her. She felt her eyes welling with tears and she bit her tongue, fighting them.

She straightened back up, taking a deep breath. “You have to go back. You cant be out here. I need to know you’re back there, doing what you have to do to save everyone else.” He couldn’t save her. Not anymore. As much as it killed her, she had to let him go. He had a family now. One that gave two shits if he lived or died, and she wasn’t letting him throw it away. Not for her.

She moved to the back of the station wagon, opening the back hatch and pulling the gas can it. “You’ll need gas.”


	6. Chapter 6

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he kept his eyes on her— never leaving her trembling form. “Wasn’t his decision ta make.” He groused starting to pace a bit. Daryl had returned the buck-knife back to his hip, hands at his waist clenching and unclenching. His mind was reeling and he wasn’t wholly sure how to approach the situation.

I found her.

He had. She was alive, but he didn’t know what to do now. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. In the heat of the moment, he’d known that he’d had to go out and find her. Wasn’t something that was necessary, just something he felt he had to do.

His brow knit in slight anger at her words. “Need me fer what? Fer food? Fer protection? I ain’t all they got. I ain’t enough.” He haughtily replied stopping his pacing for a moment. His eyes roved over her as she held herself up against the car. She weren’t fine. Despite how strong she was trying to be, Daryl could still see the same mousy woman he’d known from back at the quarry peeking right back at him.

"Lizzie and Mika’re fine." He said slowly keeping his tone somewhat soft. She’d told him about the girls she’d been charged with taking care of and in turn it had fallen onto his shoulders as well to watch over them in her stead. It was their system.

The anger was starting to build up in him as she slowly began to fight him back. Weren’t in the actions, but her words. She wasn’t being callous, but he could tell she wasn’t going to allow herself any leeway to be hurt again. Let herself have hope that things could be any different than they already were. When she moved around to pop the trunk up, removing the gas can, he’d lost it.

Storming over towards her, Daryl yanked the gas can from her hands, steely eyes glaring down at her. He hadn’t been this mad or upset with her since Sophia and back then he didn’t understand why it had bothered him so much. It was a whirlwind of new feelings and things he didn’t know right from left of. This. This right here was the same thing. He didn’t know what it was that propelled him forward to react the way he did, just that Daryl didn’t like it.

He kept his hawk-like gaze fixed on Carol, studying her next move. Her reaction to his sudden action. He felt like he was goading her into acting, but what was the thing he didn’t know. Daryl knew that he couldn’t just let it go. He wouldn’t.

\--//--

Carol wouldn’t let him stay with her. He couldn’t. Not when everyone back at the prison would blame her for this as well. She wasn’t about to take away someone they needed because she’d made the wrong choice. She’d taken two lives. Two lives. It echoed in her brain. She hadn’t let herself go there, but with him standing right there in front of her now, she had to. She’d taken lives. Did you get to come back from that no matter the circumstances that lead you to the actions? She shook her head, fists balled tight when he’d jerked the gas can from her. 

He was pacing like a caged tiger, and she didn’t know if she should slink back and make herself small and wait for the inevitable blow that was sure to come, or stand up to him. Where did he get off treating her like this anyway? She let out an angry growl, “Daryl Dixon, stop be so goddamned stubborn!” She knew she shouldn’t raise her voice and bring attention to them. They were already tempting fate as it was, standing out there in the dark with walkers just waiting to sink their nasty, broken teeth into their flesh.

"You fill your tank, and you get on back to that prison. The girls need you. Damn it. I did this to myself. It’s the consequences to my actions that brought me out here…" She gestured wildly around them and let out another growl. "You can’t keep on saving my life. There’s got to be an end somewhere. When do you stop saving my life, and I start saving myself?" 

Her hands shook as she reached for the gas can that he still held in his tight grip. She tugged at it, harder the second time. “Now let go.”


	7. Chapter 7

His glare hardened at her command, irritated wrinkle in his brow settled on her. “I ain’t tryin’ t’save yer life.” He replied keeping his voice low. It was taking a lot of restraint on his end to keep from raising his voice and Carol trying to jerk the gas can away from him wasn’t helping either. Daryl didn’t let go and he pulled back on the can, pulling her hand off of it. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He growled eyes drawn down into slats.

He wasn’t going to give up that easily nor be so easily swayed by having to go take care of the girls that had been charged in his stead since Carol was no longer at the prison. Daryl didn’t take his eyes off her as he took a step back, working his jaw as he did. He was taking her in. She looked disheveled and her eyes seemed brighter than usual; he reasoned it had been from the crying. Her eyes got bright when she cried— he remembered that from when he’d gone to sit with her after Sophia and even then when he had brought her the Cherokee rose when she’d been overwhelmed with hope.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping his form in front of the gas can so she couldn’t get to it. He drew a brow up in surprise when his fingers hit a cold smooth object in his pocket. His fingers roved over the object feeling the divets and crevices of the jasper he had found for the marker of the old man. He remembered what he’d been told about what jasper did and he felt himself quell down from his burning anger.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Daryl glanced back to Carol, his eyes searching hers for a moment. “Why’d ya do it?” He asked quietly, tipping his head down some drawing his attention away from her to the scuffing of his worn boots. He wanted to know why. He thought he knew but that had been his own assertions and not Carol’s own words. He glanced back up at her, his eyes somewhat pleading for her to give him something. He’d felt like somehow he was subtly asking her, "Why couldn’t you trust me?"

\--//--

Carol’s hands were trembling madly, and she shoved them into her pockets to try and make them stop. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She could almost read him like a book. But only almost. When the question left his lips, she looked down. Shame burned on her cheeks. She’d been a naive fool to think that he wouldn’t go there. She took a shaky breath, taking a step back only to have her rear end connect with the back of the station wagon.

It somewhat grounded her. She felt her knees quiver, almost like they were about to give out on her, but she pushed herself back up to her full height squaring her shoulders. “They were dying, Daryl. Drowning in their own blood, and I thought, no, I had hoped that it would end the sickness.” Tears stung her eyes. Yet, she refused to let them fall. She blinked rapidly, making them go away.

"Somebody had to do something. Daryl, I couldn’t risk you or Lizzie or Mika…Judith…getting sick. It had to be stopped. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was wrong, but it was a necessary risk. I don’t like what I did. I don’t think the blood will ever come off my hands, not ever…" She pulled them free from her pockets and held out her hands toward him, palms up…" No matter how many times she washed them, they would never be free of Karen’s blood. Or David’s. "See?" she whispered.

"Rick was right to punish me. He had every right…" Her voice broke then, choking back the emotion. "Let the punishment fit the crime…"


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl carefully listened to her words, gritting his teeth at the facts that she was presenting. They were all valid. All true statements. Dr. K had described it as a soda-pop can bursting its top except it being the eyes, ears, and mouth and he could only fathom that that would have been the likeliest of outcomes for David and Karen. None of those that had been sick had gotten any better from the medications that they had already utilized.

His head snapped up when she talked about the people she didn’t want sick. His name was in that list and it surprised him some. He’d known that there had been something between them but what it was he could never sort out. Could never understand what it was that kept them coming back to seek out comfort in the other. His eyes fell on her hands as she spoke of her guilt and he saw nothing there but her markedly dirty hands sans the blood she thought was still there.

"That weren’t his decision t’make." Daryl replied after a pause, his eyes searching hers out for a split second before returning to the ground, fingers still fumbling with the jasper. "Shouldn’t just fall onta one set o’ shoulders neither."

Daryl felt like he was back at square one. He didn’t understand what it was he was looking for in searching for Carol, whether it was some sort of closure or some rationale behind why it was she did what she did, which he got, but he still didn’t seem satisfied with any of it. He toed his boot into the ground still keeping a keen ear on any shambling noises but hearing nothing as of yet. “What made ya think it had ta come ta this? Why didn’t ya come t’me t’talk?” He finally blurted before he had a chance to backpedal. He waited with bated breath for her reply not knowing what to expect.

\--//--

Carol’s heart nearly stopped at his question. His voice echoed, reveberating in her ears and she wanted nothing more than to put her hands over them and to make it stop, but he had every right to ask that question. It was one that she herself wouldn’t allow herself to fathom, but now she had to. She owed him an explanation. He’d come all this way to look for her, save her from her own ill seated fate, and she was coming up short on the why. 

The only reason that came to her mind simply this. “I didn’t want you to be a part of it. I wanted your hands clean when it was all said and done. I wanted you to be able to present yourself to the others as…as the good guy.” Her throat closed up some, causing the last of her words to somewhat feel choked in her throat as she forced them free. “It was my decision. I let you down. I let everybody down…” But in the back of her mind, she kept thinking that she hadn’t known that when she’d made the choice.

She let out a shaky breath. “They were suffering, Daryl. I didn’t plan it out. It wasn’t…pre-meditated.” She closed her eyes, hearing a snarl and a groan off to her right and tensed, reaching for her knife. The movement was swift and easy and the walker was taken out before either of them even knew what had happened. She pushed it off of her, freeing her knife and let out a loud hiss, “I saw what Patrick did to Cell Block D, and I didn’t want it to happen again. Karen and David…they were on death’s door.”

She barely even acknowledged the walker that she’d taken out as she kept talking. Her hands covered in blood now. It made her quake inside and she felt sick. Her lips quivered and she swallowed back the feeling. “And I know your heart. You don’t want to lose nobody else…and I took two people from you.”

And for the first time since it had happened, she whispered, “I’m sorry…” And tears fell down her dirty cheeks, staining them with tear streaks.


	9. Chapter 9

The good guy. Her words echoing in his ears like a whisper in the dark; a wrinkle set in his brow and a collective harrumph fell from his lips as Daryl began his pacing once more, working his jaw again as he kept his gaze attentive on her.

It always did come to him as a surprise when someone told him something like that. Words that he’d never heard come from his Daddy or his Mother’s lips. Carol had told him words like this before and even then they had been foreign and unfamiliar in their meaning. He’d wondered then if it was a good thing that these words made him feel like he was of value and even now her words made him feel something, but this time they weren’t of any merit he cared for. Wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just that he still had an inkling of not being any good.

"I ain’t the good guy." He replied in a low, gravelly tone stopping his pacing, hip dipped slightly, arms folded across his chest. Daryl held the jasper tight in his fist as he paused to collect his thoughts.

He could feel his temper swelling some and he wanted to holler and get right in her face and tell her that she was being glib about the whole thing. That his family wasn’t the whole fucking entirety of newcomers he’d come across on his hunting trips or the various runs or the people they’d mercilessly brought back from Woodbury. The people he truly cared most for were those that he’d left Atlanta with— despite the bad blood that he’d left off with at the time.

Then the moaning came and he was in a predatory stance hand flying to his side, but before he could even manage to get close enough to take out the walker, Carol had thrust her own knife into its skull and resumed her speaking as if nothing had happened. He was certainly a little baffled and perplexed at how nonchalantly she had done it. Had it been just as easy to dismiss as the killings of both David and Karen? He wondered as he sheathed his knife and resumed his previous stance, hands tucked under his armpits. He could see Carol was visibly shaken up by the blood when he caught her eyes shift down to her hands and she began to tremble and quake.

And then he heard it. Her apology. He’d been waiting to hear her voice. To actually hear Carol. To hear that she hadn’t meant to do it all along, but it didn’t take back the fact that she had still done the act. She’d still taken lives. And despite the relief he felt when she’d apologized, he had to backpedal on his reasoning to take her back to the safety of the prison walls. He couldn’t reason with taking her back knowing that Tyrese would simple kill her out of grief. It wouldn’t matter that she was apologetic about the matter— he would kill her and there would be no stopping it. Nothing he could do.

Then his own words echoed, rattled more like in his head. I’ll put a bolt in them fer what they did.Those had been his words and yet he found himself angry, temper unbridled as he blinked back his rage. Here she was and he had no means of doing such a thing now that everything had been said and done. He wouldn’t do it, couldn’t will himself, but it still didn’t change anything and he felt like he was now back at square one. Always back to not knowing why it was he needed to seek her out and neither knowing how it could be rationalized to bring her back to the prison. It always came down to not knowing.

Daryl stopped his pacing, taking a hesitant step back from Carol. His jaw muscle clenched and he bit back the wince. He felt as if everything was simply for naught. He still didn’t know why it was he felt he had to go and find her. It didn’t matter much any which way he looked at. He’d go back to the prison empty handed despite having found Carol. It all came back to how the others would react and how then would she be treated, labeled as a murderer. Daryl began pacing, scrubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes as he worked them to rake through his shaggy crop of hair.

He was a child again with his balled up fists digging half-moons from the nails in his skin, dropping his hands from his hair to his sides. There was nothing he could do to stop Carol from her crying and nothing he could do to prove otherwise that he wasn’t a total fuck-up of a human being with wasting the others’ time with his wayward search for the woman before him. He’d thought he’d had a plan but like always it wasn’t any good and there wasn’t much comfort he could offer her beyond a pat on the back and a see ya later, but that wasn’t him— Daryl couldn’t just leave it at that.

Swallowing his pride and his anger, Daryl took a step forward, hand shaking slightly as he rest it on her shoulder. He wasn’t sure what comfort this would offer her, but it was all he could think up to do to quell her crying. He was trying to keep the noise done for the sake of their lives. No telling what was lurking beyond the brush, but as a means of calming his own rampant mind.

\--//--

Carol hadn’t expected the touch. She hadn’t expected the kindness, even if anymore that’s what she would give him above anyone else. She had gone too far, and she wasn’t redeemable. That’s what Rick had left her with when he packed her a bit of meager supplies and set about sending her in the opposite direction of her home. She’d been lost to the people she’d come to call her family at her own doing, and she didn’t know why he’d risked his life to come and find her. What had he hoped to gain? What did he want from her?

She moved her hand slowly up, resting it on his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes were still flowing with tears, the ache in her gut seemed to widen even more, and she wasn’t sure she could hold it together until he climbed on that bike and headed back to the others. She wished that he’d get it done with and not make this take any longer than it had to.

She couldn’t go back. Rick made that very clear. Even if she felt the weight of everything she’d done for the rest of her life, no matter how long that life would be now, she’d never be a welcome part of that family again. Everyone must hate her. Everyone but Daryl. And even with him, she wasn’t sure. He didn’t have it in him to hate her. At least she hoped. She felt her nails digging into his skin as the sobs ripped through her chest.

She whispered softly, “I’d never forgive someone like me had they done what I did. There’s no excuse for it, nothing I can do to make it right. Daryl, Rick gave me the best chance I got out here.” She let out a shaky breath then, reaching up with her free hand and wiping the tears off her cheeks. “But I’d like to think…to think that in this world, there’s still a place for me. I guess it’s my job to find it. Right?”

Every fiber of her being wanted to ask him to stay and make a go of it with her, but she wouldn’t be selfish. For the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon had a home with a family that adored him. And he deserved it. She wasn’t so far gone that she would be selfish on top of being a killer.

A killer.

Her heart gave a shudder at the word. Is that what she was now? At the time, that’s not what it felt like. At the time, it felt like the humane thing, the right thing, but she knew, even then, that it wasn’t.


	10. Chapter 10

Daryl felt the dig of her nails in his skin, but he didn’t make indication that it bothered him any, no wrinkle in his brow nor the curl of his lip. He quietly swallowed the lump in his throat in a somewhat standing vigil by her side as she continued to hold onto his arm. He understood and if she needed to vent in some manner whether it be purposeful or accidental he would be there. He would listen like he always did when she talked.

He carefully took in the words she spoke, clenching and unclenching his jaw out of frustration, their meanings repeatedly slapping him in the face saying that nothing was going to matter because she had taken lives. He tried not to scoff but knew it fell off his lips despite his best effort. They’d all taken lives, whether enemy or not. “Don’t matter none what we’ve done. It’s ‘bout what we do… Here’n now. You did somethin’ and it might not’ve been what were right— but it was somethin’.” He growled working his jaw.

It was hard to keep his eyes from her crying form, a slight reminiscence from his childhood when his Mom would cry. He didn’t really know what to do or how to react— hell he’d simply ignored his Mom when he was a kid, but he couldn’t ignore Carol. He simply stood there, hand still at her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently against the fabric of her jacket. It was all he could offer and then nothing beyond. He wet his lips, tilting his head up eyes fixed at the sky, sighing deeply.

He felt like two halves of himself were being torn from left and right. Part of him wanted to leave and let it be— Rick had made his choice and so had she… So had she. The other part of him wanted to linger for as long as he could allow, a deep want to stay nearby, but he knew he simply couldn’t do that. She would just push him away and tell him she didn’t need him. That he was needed elsewhere. What about his own needs? What did he need? Needed the familiarity of those around him. He needed the comfort of knowing that those he held close to him were safe. Then it suddenly clicked. The not knowing. Daryl was afraid of not knowing that she was safe. Afraid that she would end up all alone— a similar fate like that of her daughter. He didn’t want that.

Fear. It was everything that he wasn’t supposed to be. Fearful. Dixons weren’t fearful of anything, ‘least of all losing people or death itself. Daryl shook his head at the thought withdrawing his hand from her shoulder, ending his part of the contact. He didn’t like being afraid. He didn’t like this roiling feeling in his stomach, twisting about in his guts. He didn’t like that he was vulnerable. Didn’t like that when he looked at her a bit of himself felt completely helpless, a little less than useless. This was everything he wasn’t supposed to be. But he was. Daryl was afraid that she would simply just disappear like everyone he’d ever held close to him.

Daryl looked at Carol. His gaze meeting hers for the first time. He’d been somewhat ashamed that he’d sought her out not understanding why it was— like some little kid crying for their guardian— but he had some insight as to why now and he felt like he could look at her. Look to her. “Everyone has a place. Even you.” He said finally, biting back the grimace and the furrow of his brow.

\--//--

Carol’s eyes moved up as he spoke the words. But it was something. She knew that’s how he would feel that it was wrong, that it was something she should have thought longer and harder about before acting, but he didn’t fault her for acting. She could breathe easier knowing at least that. Her hand fell from his arm. She then wrapped her arms around herself as if to shield her from any more pain, but she knew this was the pain she’d be forced to live with no matter how long she had left to live. And she was sure that she’d never grow accustomed to it, and she figured that she wasn’t sure she was supposed to so that was okay.

Her eyes fell back to the ground as she shifted, mulling over the things that were said and those that were left unsaid. She felt small and insignificant to Rick and the others, but never with Daryl. No matter how many things she did wrong, she didn’t think he’d ever truly hate her. Not even when she’d spoken out of turn against his brother, but she had understood his need to keep him close, try to keep him safe. Even if in the end it hadn’t worked out. She swallowed the lump in her throat and was about to speak when he spoke again.

Before she could think, she reacted, “What is my place, Daryl? Because even if I wanted to, I can’t come back, can I?” She wasn’t sure if she was asking him to take her back or just wanting to his know his thoughts on the matter itself, but she felt sure that she already knew her answer. That she wasn’t going to be a welcomed sight at the prison for a long, long time to come if ever. 

She put her hand to her mouth, wishing that she could turn back time and take back the question that she’d posed between them. It didn’t do to dwell on things. She was where she was now at the doing of her own hands and that was what she had to get through her head and accept. 

"And you don’t have to answer that." It was in that moment that she was more certain that she didn’t want him to answer. She feared what his answer would be. Rick didn’t trust her. And nor should he. But did Daryl? Did she really want to know? Was she ready for that?


	11. Chapter 11

Daryl worked his jaw, disliking the reality that was brought forth by her question. He couldn’t hide from her the truth that it would be damned near impossible for him to take her back to the prison. Too many people would feel uneasy and she would be ostracized for her actions. He didn’t want anything like that for her. For no one. Even if people were bad at times, he never thought that they should ever know what it was like to feel like they didn’t belong or weren’t wanted. He’d felt it all too often for himself and he hated the people that made him feel that way.

His attention was held on the scuffing of his boots, jaw clenching and unclenching knowing that he would tell her and the blow wouldn’t be something he could handle. Daryl’s eyes carefully traveled up to find her own, meeting her teary gaze for that moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat, rolling out his shoulders, feeling the anxiety in his body start up again. He felt the need to pace and the desire to swivel his head back and forth as if surveying something, but he refrained as best he could trying to hold himself in place. He couldn’t let on that this bothered him more than it should.

Finally coming to terms with everything somewhat, Daryl averted his eyes away from hers and mumbled, “No.” The words hung in the air like an impenetrable silence. The words didn’t feel real to him and he wasn’t sure if he should repeat them or not but he did. “No, Ya can’t go back.” His stomach was twisting again and it was like the bile was rising in his throat and it burned like a scratching sensation.

He couldn’t look at Carol in fear of those pleading eyes. He’d seen that look only a handful of times before but only recalled two— finding Sophia and when she’d asked him to not go searching for her. It was a look he wasn’t ready to see nor willing to handle again. He’d been flippant about the one in the barn, having chucked the saddle across the barn floor doubling over in pain from the bolt he’d gouged himself on a few days prior. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. It was always something he never expected with Carol and he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

Uncomfortably he began toeing his boot into the ground, steeling himself for her possible reaction.

\--//--

She stepped forward at hearing his words. She needed this over and quick. If this was the last time that they ever saw one another, she wouldn’t go without having her arms around him. Just to feel it. Just once. For the first time since meeting him, she didn’t care about his feelings or his space, she moved herself right into the space and slipped her arms under his and hugged him tightly while laying her head on his chest. She breathed in deeply.

"You should go," she whispered. She closed her eyes, still not letting him go. He felt good. Just like she always knew he would. It was no secret that she liked him. She always flirted with him. Even found it endearing and attractive that he was so out of his element when she did so that she did it just see him squirm. It wasn’t done with malice. Just adoration. She could handle more coming from their relationship, but she knew when not to push. 

To put it simply, Daryl Dixon wasn’t ready for that. Or maybe he was, but he didn’t think so. And that was good enough for her. She lifted her face up then, looking up at him. She was aware of his body language. Very aware that she was only making this harder for them both, but she needed this if she was going out there to brave this world alone.

"Tell the girls…" She trailed off then, unable to finish. She turned her head away, pulling out of his grasp then and toward the station wagon’s passenger door from where she’d come. "Take the gas. I’ll find more. Get back before it’s too late."

Her hand shook as she pulled open the door, ready to climb back into her sanctuary. She wasn’t ready to start this new chapter in her life. Especially not alone, but she’d accepted her fate. Now all she had to do was embrace it.


	12. Chapter 12

He froze rigid as she moved into his space, wrapping her arms around him. She fit neatly against his chest with the light brush of her cropped hair catching in his chin scruff. He held his breath not sure what to do. She’d always made jabs at him by simple nudges or light arm touches but never anything much more physical than that and he had reciprocated that as well.

Daryl let his breath out slowly feeling the hammer of his heart beating away in his head like a never-ending death knell. His jaw muscle clenched and unclenched as she kept her hold on him even though she had just muttered for him to go. Even if he had wanted to… He couldn’t. His knees were locked in place and his body stiff as a plank board still trying to reel from the foreign touch. It didn’t feel the same. Not like it had when he’d held onto her when she’d gone charging in towards Sophia. He’d been protecting her to hold her back from a demise he didn’t think he could stomach to see.

Seeing one of your own wasn’t something anyone got accustomed to. The images of Merle lurching forward still plagued his dreams as a silent jeer that he was never any good to do anything to stop it from happening. He had felt like a damned fool telling Carol earlier in the day that he’d find Sophia. They all knew, but he knew worst of all as he was a man of his word. Despite his failure there, she hadn’t blamed him that it had ever been his fault.

Tentatively with fidgeting hands, Daryl reached up and pressed a hand to the small of her back, the other hand lightly touching at her arm. This all was incredibly new and he still couldn’t deal with this twisting and turning in his stomach. A never-ending gush of anxiety filling his throat.

When Carol pulled away from against his chest and opened the driver’s side door, he felt his stomach fall out of his body and the wind knocked from his lungs. He took a hesitant step forward his mind reeling trying to figure a way that would expunge her follies. He growled low in irritation raking his hands through his hair pacing a little. He threw his hands to his sides before taking another step again forwards.

"Stop sayin’ it like ye’ve already givin’ up!" He barked wagging a finger at her.

He heard a growl and a moan come from a thick brush near the car stealing him back from his emotional outburst. He pulled his knife from its sheath in one swift motion and took two long strides ramming his knife into the soft skull of the walker that ambled out of the bushes from his shouting. He took a few steps back as it fell to the ground with a thud and out of the way of the gore splatter from the removal of his knife.

"Yer gon’ tell me that yer gon’ make it on yer own? Ain’t gon’ happen." He replied roughly with a fertile shake of his head, wiping the coagulated blood on the shirt of the walker turning on his heel to face her. "I ain’t lettin’ you go."

Immediately he felt his cheeks get hot and his nose wrinkle in protest not knowing whether he should be back pedaling or not. He hadn’t meant it as he had bluntly stated, but somehow a part of him had and that was something he had been trying to square with for a long time. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, fingers lightly rolling the jasper stone around in his palm.

\--//--

The feel of his light touch on both her back and arm would be enough to keep her alive for days, months if she let it. She closed her eyes as she opened the door, prepared to slip behind the wheel and that be the end of her goodbye. She hated to see him in such turmoil. She hated even more that she was the cause of it. All she wanted for him was a life where he didn’t have to worry about her anymore. That he’d done his job, taught her everything that she could possibly need to know. She didn’t expect him to pine away for her or worry every time he was alone. She wanted to erase herself from his memory and let him free of his self imposed burden to watch over her.

She’d watched as he paced, feeling the emotion coming off of him in waves. The lump in her throat only preceeded to get bigger, making it more difficult to swallow back her emotions. She’d been just fine before he’d shown up and part of her wished that she’d hidden and let him keep on searching, but she was selfish in that she wanted to hear what he’d had to say. She needed to know why he had come to look for her. And now, she was only making this worse.

His finger wagged at her, pointing out that she was failing at doing the one job she’d set out to do. And that was to protect him from all this. From her. Her voice was caught in her throat, unable to protest and argue any kind of opposition. She instead hung her head. That was until she heard the low groans and snarls of the nearby walker. Her hand instantly went to her hip, unsheathing her knife and stepping forward toward them both. 

And it was then that he took it down, feeding all of his anger at her, at the situation she’d put them both in, and taking it down. Her eyes moved over to him, locking on him as he spoke the next words. 

"I ain’t lettin’ you go."

Carol’s head immediately shook from side to side. She stepped forward then, hand on the arm that still clutched the knife tightly in his fist. Her words were soft and clear then. They had to be. He couldn’t do anything stupid and jeopardize the group or himself. She wouldn’t allow it. “You’re needed back there. The people there look up to you, respect you. I’ll only drag you down. I’ll only be a burden. And I’m not anyone’s burden, Daryl. Not anymore.” Her grip tightened on his arm even though she had meant to drop her hand back to her side, but instead held onto that last little bit of their connection for as long as he might have it.


	13. Chapter 13

Immediately at her touch Daryl pulled away his arm from her grip. A seething anger was filling him up to the brim. His narrowed stare boring holes into her form. He averted his attention elsewhere working his jaw before catching a crooked glimpse of Carol and taking several steps away from her. Calloused marred hands had worked their way from his pockets to the belt loops, fingers hooked as he dropped his head searching the cracked asphalt for some semblance of an answer.

It was as if each stride he made to try and get her to come back to the prison, she would take several more back making it increasingly difficult for him to keep his anger and voice in check. She was so resistant— part of him felt like simply giving up on her. And Daryl Dixon was no quitter. He wouldn’t beg her to go back. He just wouldn’t. That wasn’t anything a Dixon would do. Absently he shook his head, steely eyes still held to the asphalt, lip curled up in a frustrated scowl.

"You think y’all make it on yer own? Huh? Think by refusin’ t’come back that yer gon’ prove that yer strong?" He replied roughly lifting his head some to glare at her. He scoffed looking away from Carol, not willing himself to make eye contact again. "Yer gon’ wind up all alone out there and you won’t know what t’do with yerself— ‘cause yer not my problem, my burden, no more, right?"

The anger within him was bubbling over and he desperately was in need of venting someway somehow. He wanted to kick his boot through something. Maybe throw a fist into the side panel of the car. He wasn’t sure but either way… If he kept at it, he was going to say something downright nasty that she wouldn’t bat an eyelash at wanting to forgive him for. He could do that to her. He could make it so she never wanted to come back if this was how she was going to act towards him.

Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek uneasy about everything. He was a knotted piece of rope and there was no means of uncoiling him back. He thought coming to some sort of resolve to coax her back would be easy, but this had turned out to be nothing more than a rueful headache and a bitter taste in his mouth. To him it was like all the time they had spent with one another were of no value.

"What’re you so ‘fraid of, huh?" He finally growled not directing his attention back up to face Carol. He wasn’t completely sure if he looked at her and saw the words in her eyes if he’d be fine with her answer despite what he saw there.

\--//--

The night back on the farm flashed in her head. The words then were almost the same as they were that night. She could still feel the sting they left on her heart as they whipped across it, scarring it forever. These were reopening those old, healed wounds, and it was her own damn fault. She hadn’t known what to do with herself that night. She just hoped that together they could find a way in the world for them both. Together. And they had. And it had been glorious. She’d never had someone completely the other half of her so completely as the man standing before her. She’d never anyone in her life before him that she wanted to protect, nurture, and love the way she wanted to with him.

Why was she being so stubborn? What did she have to prove? Was it really Rick stopping her from going back to the prison with him? Or was it herself? She already knew the answer to that question before she ever even entertained it as a thought. She swallowed hard; the lump almost choking her. She had to move her hand up to her throat, almost physically loosening it in order to breathe freely again. Her eyes were watery and wild as she saw the agony that she was putting him through.

Her head snapped in his direction when the last question parted his lips. The one question she hadn’t wanted him to ask. The one thing she knew for a fact that she couldn’t lie about, wouldn’t even try, even if she wanted desperately to do just that. 

It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be there with him. With the girls. Nothing would ever be further from the truth. Nothing. But what if she let it happen again? What if she harmed anyone else in their group? Unintentionally or intentionally wouldn’t matter any more. This time she’d done it with the hope of saving lives, and she had failed. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to make the right decision in the future. She wasn’t sure she could risk his life or that of the girls because of it. 

"Myself." The word itself was almost inaudible, but the wind seemed to pick up then and carry it away, causing an even bigger void between the pair. She didn’t lower her head or look away. Her eyes were on him, waiting for his to find them and lock onto him. She needed him to understand.


	14. Chapter 14

When she spoke again, he barely caught it but he could have sworn it was an indication of herself. He frowned slightly not sure why she should be afraid of herself. Did she not trust that she could do the right thing? That she wasn’t perhaps fit for the group anymore? What was it that she was so afraid of that she wouldn’t allow herself to come back home?

Home.

Such an odd phrasing coming from him. He’d called it a tomb where only horrible memories of those were lost to them within its walls. Too many lives lingering about like a death knell just waiting, snapping at their heels. And in spite of the lives they had saved, bringing in the non-essential to the Governor from Woodbury to the Prison, death still heavily lingered. Lives had just been lost with most if not all of D-Block gone… Later to only find two others had been killed, drug from their beds and then burned to nothing— ashes to ashes.

In an instant something snapped inside of Daryl and he whirled on her taking several steps into her personal space. It wasn’t thinking back on the murders that sprang a fire inside of him. It was something else he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It just made him set sights on her like he’d done when she came through his camp back at the farm. “You think yer the only ones with problems with yerself? Huh? News flash: everyone’s got ‘em. Can’t deal with ‘em, well too fuckin’ bad.” He growled not sure where this was all coming from still. He felt like a torrent of anger just churning about in his gut and having no physical means of letting it out. His fists were clenching and unclenching, nails digging deep into his palms. He knew he was being loud and likely walkers were being drawn to their place at the side of the road but it didn’t matter.

Daryl was mad. He was mad that he didn’t have a say in any matter that decided her banishment. He was mad that she hadn’t trusted him enough to come to him. He was mad that she had flat out lied to him when she had claimed she was okay. He was mad at Rick. Mad at Carol. Mad that him coming here did nothing but make him regret bothering with caring for others. Mad at everything that could possibly stand in his way. Everything just pissed him off even more and he wanted nothing more to do with anything. Part of him even thought if she simply went away that maybe the sting would ease up and his gut would stop this unbelievable roiling pain— maybe. But that was so far from the truth and he knew it.

His fingers found their way into his hair, heels of his hands pressed deep into the hollows of his eyes blocking out everything as he paced in irritation. Finally he stopped and he dropped his hands to his side. Daryl’s steel gaze fell on Carol’s and for a moment he felt sad, even regret, like everything he had given to want to help fix her was crumbling at his feet. Daryl dropped his head not looking at her. “Go. I don’t want ya here.” He mumbled low under his breath, not entirely sure if she heard him or not… Unsure of whether he wanted her to hear him. If she simply went away… Then she would be just like everyone else that came into his life… She wouldn’t be the only exception. She wouldn’t and he knew she couldn’t be. Not anymore.

\--//--

Carol’s eyes widened. It was the only indication that she’d been surprised at his anger. The only tell that she would ever give him. Her hands remained down at her sides, ready to take whatever he had coming at her. She’d take it and then some from him. They both knew it. She wasn’t afraid of him. She could never be afraid of someone she trusted with her very life. With her very abused, emotional heart. The same very heart that he had a hand in putting back together after it was shattered with the loss of Sophia.

She wanted in that moment to reassure him that she’d come back, that things would return to normal. That they’d be just like they’d always been, but how could she? How could she when so much had changed? She had changed. Daryl had changed. Rick had changed. She opened her mouth to speak, to agree with him. They all had their problems, and owning them was something she’d never had a problem with. Until now. Until this. This all felt like a very bad dream that she just couldn’t wake from. She tried pinching her sides, to no avail. This was real. It was happening.

Then his words hit her. Hard. At first, she couldn’t do anything but stare openly in bewilderment. He hadn’t spoken to her like that in over a year. Then she blinked, letting the realization wash over her. He was fighting with his feelings. His feelings concerning her, and because she had refused to let him swoop in like her knight on a white horse and take her home, he was lashing out. He was throwing a temper tantrum the only way he knew how. By saying the things he knew would hurt her the most.

Her heart thundered. She could turn, slip into that station wagon and drive away. Not even look back. She could do it. She probably should for all the hell and grief she was going to get when he pulled up with her and drove back through those prison gates. But she couldn’t. Not after all the stories they’d shared of him growing up with Merle. How Merle had always left. How his mother had died when he was young. How there hadn’t even been a body for him to say goodbye too. People always left.

She’d left.

But not of her own freewill. Not of her own choice. She’d been banished out here in the cold, hard world where at the next turn could certainly mean death or worse. She could meet up with someone that thought it would be nice to use your body for his own personal play thing. And Carol knew the thought had crossed his mind as he’d been out there looking for her.

She closed her eyes, taking a step forward then. “Bullshit,” she said, holding her own. She clenched her fists at her sides, watching this angry, broken man before her. She wasn’t about to be the one that walked away. Not when he was giving so much of himself to her in that moment without even knowing it. Everyone else could walk away. Everyone else had.

But she couldn’t. Not freely. She moved into his space, watching him. Challenging him to take a step back. To move away from her. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Didn’t he want her to want him back? And hadn’t she for as long as she could remember? Hadn’t she been the one to flirt and be open with how she felt, and hadn’t he always fought back and put the distance between then.

Not tonight. Tonight it was do or die.

She moved right up against him, pressing her chest against his. They were so close that the smell of sweat and dirt and whatever else that made up that intoxicating smell that was all Daryl Dixon tickled her nose. That smell was home to her. It ignited parts of her she’d long since forgotten about. Her hands were on his hips now.

"Take me home."


	15. Chapter 15

His breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart clench, a convulsion of muscle almost strangling his chest and lungs. His body went rigid when she moved into his physical proximity and he was quite sure in that moment that he’d stopped breathing. The only sound he could hear was the thrumming of his pulse in his head. He kept his gaze held above her crop of hair, not sure if he wanted to look her in the eyes and show how uncomfortable he truly was.

Carol’s challenge came to him as a surprise as much as her step forward. He hadn’t been expecting her to come into his space as she had— a bold move. Daryl figured that his words to her would end any ties she held with him and she’d simply go away. Be like the others and leave him. Apparently his words weren’t worth any merit as she’d seen through his bluff. His bravado. His big shiny feathers trying to bluff his way out of showing that this all bothered him more than he was letting on. Carol always could see through his bullshit, calling him out as she did.

His breaths came in shaky puffs when her hands settled at his waist and in that instant he felt smaller than he really was. A lot less than useless as she could render him sometimes. Daryl wanted to silently slink away unsure of himself. Unsure of what he was feeling. Unsure of whether this was okay. That this slippery feeling in his palms or the rapid beat of his heart was something normal. There was a flutter and a sinking feeling in his chest as his breathing sharpened. He worked his jaw some before swallowing the lump stuck in his throat, brow furrowing at her words.

Take me home.

All this push and fight. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to take what she had to give him in that moment. She’d been fighting him the whole way through, kicking and screaming silently as she was. He’d given it thought and he knew he could deal with Tyreese. He wouldn’t believe that Carol could do what she’d said she had done. He hadn’t— he definitely hadn’t believed it true until he heard the words fall from her lips and even then it was something hard to swallow and let settle.

He felt his hands twitch at his sides and his fingers rolling in waves slightly, antsiness of where he wanted to put his hands. She had never stepped into his space as she had with this sort of intention. All their touches had just been simple familiar touches. This right here had his brain in a flurry of spinning cog wheels and gears jamming, unable to really process the meaning… The why. Her warmth enveloped him and the somersaulting of his stomach was speeding his heart up some— the feelings all so foreign and unfamiliar to him all swirling together in a mess in the pit of his gut.

Daryl would never openly admit that she gave him cause to keep pushing on… A reason to keep fighting. And here she was openly reciprocating what he’d always wondered. Always had the slightest inkling that there was something there. Always curious if there could be more to the playful pushes or the silent gazes. He could always tell when she sought him out in a room. There was that quiet connection that he only got when she looked at him.

Those eyes. Those big blue pleading eyes of hers. Always the ever constant. The ever spoken word he could always understand without having to utter a word.

With an awkward hesitation, a held breath, Daryl brought his hands to settle at her shoulders, squaring his own as he drew his eyes to find hers. He let out a small sigh, a warble in his gruff tone, “I ain’t got all day. C’mon.”

\--//--

Carol’s eyes closed at the feel of him stiffening. She got it. She understood it, but at the same time it was a huge step for them after everything they had been through together that he didn’t back away or lash out at her for being so close to him. He’d stood his ground and kept his footing. If this had been any other situation, she’d have looked up at him, flashed her smile and made some kind of flirty joke to hopefully put him at ease, but this wasn’t the time. And it wasn’t the place.

Instead her head fell forward, resting against his shoulder. She took several shaky breaths of her own. His warmth was keeping her grounded, keeping her from getting too far gone inside herself. He’d fought for her every step of the way. Just as she had been fighting for him since that time on the Greene farm when he’d taken it upon himself to look for Sophia. He had given himself to her daughter for no other reason other than he wanted to find her, to keep her safe. And she’d never forgotten the lesson she’d learned in that.  
Looks deceived. You couldn’t judge a man based on his appearance and attitude alone. Nor by the company that he keeps. Not even his brother. You had to peel back the layers, dig deeper into the mystery of the man, and find what really made him the way he was. And she had seen the man inside him that he was desperate to be and had never really had the chance to shine because he was always standing inside someone else’s shadow.

She’d fought hard for that man. Built him up with no want or hope of any personal gain. In this moment, it had paid off. He was standing there, accepting her, and her heart swelled. It was almost ready to burst. She felt the tears pricking her eyes at how intense everything was that lead them here. It had been a strange dance. A coupling that no one on the outside looking in would ever hope to understand. Not that she’d want them to. This was hers and his. She didn’t want to share. She didn’t have to share. And she’d always known that. Always.

Her grip tightened on his hips. She swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. She pushed away all shred of doubt that he’d refuse to take her back. That his words had only been meaningless words. Because in this moment, he was that man of honor that she’d always known him to be. He was that man that would do whatever it took to keep her safe from whatever she might face once she was back on the inside.

When his hands fell upon her shoulders, her head lifted and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. The smile that formed upon her lips at his words was unmistakable and all for him. She lifted one hand from his hip, touching his cheek in such a way that she hadn’t dared ever to do before, but it felt right. It felt good. Damn good. Her lips parted and she whispered, “Just let me get what I can from the station wagon. Food and such. There’s a backpack…”  
She was reluctant to step away, knowing that whatever this was they had right here in this moment could be the very last for them. It caused an ache deep inside her, but she knew they couldn’t risk being out here like this in the dark with walkers inching closer every second. She blinked, pulling away and lowering her hand back to her side. “Gas up…” she instructed him softly. “It won’t take me long.”

And she stepped away. She felt the loss of his heat instantly. And her body quaked visibly even as she tried to stop it. She reached for the backpack inside the still open hatch and began to stuff whatever was of importance into it. She wasn’t about to leave anything they’d have to return for. She was all packed away in a matter of minutes. A pistol was shoved into her waistband on the opposite hip of her knife. She shut the hatch as quietly as she could and moved to the door to close it. She left the keys in the ignition. Who was she to deny anyone the use of it.

"All set…" she breathed into the darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

When her hand came to rest at his cheek those big bright eyes staring back at him, Daryl felt his own cheeks flush and his ears get hot. In that moment he was glad it was dark so she couldn’t see the embarrassment vivid on his face. He was sure she could sense the fear, the uncertainty… The lost little boy hidden beneath the layers of gruff and scowl evident in the way he shrank down a bit from her touch. He swallowed the lump thick in his throat, slight curl in his lip at the taste. His mouth hung slightly agape not quite capable of fathoming the meaning of the gesture.

Carol’s hand was gentle to the touch, her eyes a soft glimmer of tears still pearled against her eyelashes. Same sorrowful yet sanguine gaze she had given him back in the RV when he had found the Cherokee rose. He could feel the swell of hope in his chest when she looked at him like that. Gave him a certain strength he never knew he had or could ever feel. A person who looked at him for as he was and not what he was. She looked at him with eyes non-judging and undoubtful of what he could offer which he often believed to be nothing. She didn’t. She hadn’t.

When she spoke breaking his gaze, Daryl’s eyes darted elsewhere settling on something less interesting, mouth shutting. He listened intently on her words catching each inflection of her voice. The soft warble of her tone and the slight tremble in her body. When she stepped away breaking the connection, he felt a little uneasy— that steadiness… That familiarity he had felt gone. He felt a little more awkward than before, a heavy weight settling deep in his chest.

He shuffled backwards to the gas can he had ruefully yanked from her hands several moments before picking it up to fill the tank of his motorcycle. He nodded his head working his jaw as he made his way over with cautious long strides. Thoughts swirled about in his head of emotions he wasn’t quite able to place a finger on. These flitterings and ripples of uneasiness roiling about in his gut made him a little less confident and a lot more confused on everything that had transpired just minutes before. The way she had looked at him. It was different from before a flicker of something that wasn’t there before not so transparent as the familiar gazes and touches like before.

His ears prickling at each pitch of the trees overhead or the dragged shuffle of what he could only assume were walkers headed for them drew his attention away from his wandering mind and back to the here and now. They needed to move fast. Groans and moans echoing louder from what he could wager, growing ever closer as he tipped the can higher to pour the gasoline faster, the liquid sloshing about down the funnel tube. Daryl topped the fuel tank as quickly as he could before he heard the growl and hiss from behind him, hand swiftly yanking his knife up and guiding itself flawlessly up and under the jaw of the walker grabbing for him. He shoved it away ducking his head at the gore splatter, yanking his bloodied buck-knife from its face, throwing the gas can at the next set of hands headed for him.

The thrumming of his heart unsettled his mind as he ran tick marks through a checklist of what could be done and what did he have. His immediate thought was Carol. Getting to her as quickly as possible. He needed a plan and fast. He knew wouldn’t be able to start the engine reliably fast enough to get away and swoop back to snatch up Carol. Despite what tune ups he could manage when walkers and supply runs weren’t dictating his time, Daryl knew Merle’s chopper was a mean bastard— much like his previous owner. Damned thing revved to life when it so chose and in this moment in time… The likelihood of it being a one-time start wasn’t in his favor.

He had seen a small rest stop not too far from where they were. They would head there as they could— easily make it without much effort. Ever looming presence of walkers were treading behind him when he took off back to Carol whom was waiting by the car her voice an audible warble in the dark. “C’mon!” He hissed grabbing her arm and pulling her forward. “We gotta go.” He gave her another tug, urgency evident in his voice as he barked at her to move.

\--//--

And just like that the magic of everything that had just happened between them, the giant strides toward a sense of belonging to one another, were quickly forgotten as the sounds and smells of walkers were ever present in her immediate vicinity. It was only when his fingers moved to tighten around her arm that her feet began to move. She wanted to scream, but the sound died in her throat.

There wasn’t time for fear. Just action. You either moved and survived or stayed standing still and let them have you. And Carol wasn’t one for standing still. Not anymore. Her feet started to move faster, hurrying after him as he picked a path for them. It was evident that he had a destination in mind, and she’d follow him anywhere without question. She managed to slide her arm from his grasp and move it so that it was her hand he was clutching. It wasn’t the time or the place, but it seemed to give her more reason to keep fighting and pushing to get them anywhere safe.

It was only then that she reached for the knife at her hip to get at anything that came within striking distance. She kept quiet behind him as they moved. Her feet tripping and tangling on whatever roots and brush was in the way as they ducked into the cover of the thicker woods near by. 

She only had hope that the same roots and brush would slow them down as well. Anything to give them a fighting chance. Her throat was burning from the heavy, labored breaths that rose from her chest. She didn’t want to show him her fear, but she trusted him above anyone else in their camp. It was how it had always been, how it always would remain. 

"Daryl, there’s nothing out here but trees. No houses. Nothing." She had no idea where he was taking them. "I looked before I settled back there for the night…" The hope still lingered that he knew more about this place than she did and that he had a plan all along. He was usually two steps ahead of whatever was going on. And she knew this time would be no different. She just needed to know there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A light she could desperately try to cling to.

Her hand tightened in his as the sound of snapping jaws was right off to her left. She released his hand, bringing her body around to use the force to push whatever was there off of her. Her knife swung, catching it just about the jaw but not fully sinking in. As the weight of that made itself known, she was knocked off guard, pulling the walker down on top of her. Pushing at it’s chest, she managed to keep the teeth from sinking into her flesh. Her stomach was hot with fear, knotted in anger. She shoved, not wanting this to be the last thing she remembered from this life. This wouldn’t be the end. This couldn’t be the end. Not when everything was starting to make sense again. Not when she and Daryl might finally have found their place at each other’s sides.


	17. Chapter 17

Daryl knew that things were going to be a little bit different once he found her. Not that he aimed for it to be, just that he somehow knew that there would either be a falling out between them or something a little more than before if there could have been a chance for that. And it had been the latter of the options, the only thing was that he had no clue how to deal with it and it frightened him. Daryl Dixon was not afraid of most things. Wouldn’t let it show if he could help it, but right now he was afraid of losing anymore people. Afraid that he may lose her.

When she roughly let go of his hand, he paused mid-stride to see her go down with the walker. At first, he resolved that she would be fine as he saw her knife find its way into its jaw. She was more than capable of taking down walkers from what he’d seen in the recent months. But his heart immediately went hammering into his chest and his breath catch in his throat the moment he saw her struggling to push it off her teeth dipping too low for his own comfort.

Immediately, Daryl hurried over grabbing the thing by the shoulders and thrust it off her in one fluid motion. He pulled his own buck-knife from within its sheathing and rammed it deep into the skull of the walker, hearing the soft sucking of gore and brain matter pulling at his knife. He yanked it free wiping the matter on its shirt, before replacing it back to his hip and hurrying over towards Carol. He did a quick scan of her seeing no bite marks or any scratches visible on her, holding his hand out for her to take.

In the background he could hear the shuffling, groans and moans swiftly following in step behind them he felt a sudden anxiety to hurry away as fast as they could possibly go. Normally, he was a silent force of urgency and calm reactions, but in this moment that was not the case. He was always afraid of the walkers. If outright asked he wouldn’t deny that. Right now though, he was downright terrified.

They needed to hurry and fast.

Without waiting for her, Daryl grabbed for Carol’s hand dragging her up and to her feet, not caring that he may have hurt her in the process. He would address that later when they got to the rest stop. Right now, though, they had to go.

"C’mon, ain’t much more ‘an a few minutes." He growled behind him. If he was being logical, the rest area wasn’t too much further away from where they were. He’d seen the small sign indicating at the turnoff before he’d found her that there was one hidden for camping sites. He’d even gone down that way thinking she may have stayed there, but found nothing when he’d searched about. Why there’d be one in the middle of god-knows-where he couldn’t figure, but was grateful for it nonetheless.

He felt his feet take him faster as he saw the small building in the distance. His fingers tightened over the strap of his crossbow at his shoulder as they pressed forward with long quick strides. Daryl dared not look back as he could only assume the noise of their arguing and the loud growl of his chopper had brought them towards them from a large swath of land.

When their feet hit asphalt, his pace quickened, tugging her along towards the building. He kicked open the door as they barrelled through. He skid to a halt, tossing his things to the ground as he slammed himself against the door, fumbling with the large lock, sliding it forward. He panted in relief as he let his head fall against the door hand still held at the lock glad that they’d made it.

\--//--

Carol hadn’t intended to need his help. She could handle herself where walkers were concerned. Most people, too, but this one got the best of her, and try as she might, she couldn’t get it off of her. And in that moment, she thought that she might truly have met her fate, and then Daryl coming to find her and leaving the safe haven of the prison would have been for nothing. She then felt the weight of it being pulled from her and she could breathe again, ragged and gasping for the next intake of fresh air.

She had rolled to her hands and knees and reached up to take the hand as he offered it to her. No words were spoken. They weren’t needed. They’d talk when this was all over. And keep right on talking until they figured all this out. She was pulled to her feet, thoughts interrupted and she had to refocus on the here. The now.

And they were off again, running and stumbling almost blindly through the woods and bramble. She could feel her chest tightening and her breathing was coming in more and more ragged gasps, but she wasn’t about to slow down now. She had no idea where he was heading, but he seemed to know exactly in what destination they were going to end up. She clutched his hand a little tighter, afraid that if their grip on each other was lost that it’d be the end of her.

When the sound of their feet running made a different sound, she looked around her for the first time. She knew he had been right to bring them here. There had to a sanctuary and it had to receive them and harbor them from the nightmares they were facing while wide awake. She swallowed hard, trying to ease the burning of her throat with her own saliva. Desperately she needed a drink, but that would wait. It had to. She felt her knees wobbling from the exhurtion of the last five minutes and their sprint through the woods and she had to keep telling herself that it was only a few more feet.

She heard the sounds change before the door even was shut. Her back pressed against the wall, pressing her palms into it as she sunk down to rest and pull her knees to her chin. She laid her head forward onto her knees and tried desperately to catch her breath. It was almost pitch black dark inside the building. The only light was that in the cieling by way of several windows that were be used to save power during the day and let the sunlight in. She was trembling now.

"Daryl?" she whispered after several silent seconds. It felt like an eternity since she’d heard his voice last. Her voice carried across the entire length of the building. It was an eerie sound and she gripped her knees tighter, not wanting to speak again until he did. And the growing sensation that they were locked inside this building began to creep up her spine.

 

She’d gotten better with small spaces since living at the prison, but she wasn’t over her fear of small, confined spaces. Especially after the two day stay in the tombs. She swallowed again, her throat finally being eased from the spit that she was able to work up in her mouth to keep it from remaining dry. It would be better tomorrow when the sun was out and she could see the environment around her. It had to be.


	18. Chapter 18

He welcomed the cool of the steel door against his forehead, mouth open in a heavy pant from running trying desperately to catch his breath. He could feel the walkers on the other side scratching and pawing at the door trying to get through with each grunt and moan. The slivers of light that filtered through beneath the door, his gaze fell to the floor as they strained to gauge how many were shuffling about outside. Daryl couldn’t tell and he neither cared at that point as his body was exhausted and his mind mentally drained of the previous conversation. He could feel the ache and pain in his joints and the taut muscle having worked too quickly for what he had to do.

Carol’s voice broke the silence, his name barely heard above a whisper. He pushed away from the door with his hand, turning his body to look for her keeping pressing his back against the door to continue to rest. In the dark of the bathroom they’d locked themselves in he couldn’t see a thing. His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted properly to the dim filtered light of the moon through the sun vents at the crest of the roof and wall.

"Yeah?" He gruffed after a moment, squinting a little to try and get a better focus on the silhouettes in the dark. His eyes vaguely scanning about to find her figure steadily settling on the gaudy shine of a water faucet from what little light could find its way in.

Her voice warbled with a tremble of fear and he was suddenly reminded that she was somewhat claustrophobic as she had mentioned back at the CDC. He hadn’t been too keen on being underground either, but that had been an opinion not shared— his observations held at bay. Daryl knew that any words he had to say at the time wouldn’t matter none as everyone had made large efforts to stay out of his way or simply ignore him altogether— which was something he had been fine with.

He had been considered one of the undesirable members of the group due to his association with his brother. He scoffed at the thought at how that had drastically changed over the course of time he had spent with the group. It amazed even himself that he had eventually become a valued member. Someone that they oftentimes looked to for a plan or some remote form of advice.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, Daryl keened his gaze on Carol whom was huddled at the back of the bathroom her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Pushing away from the rattle of the door, he padded towards her carefully stepping over their effects and bags that had been carelessly tossed in their haste to get inside and away from the just present danger. He paused in front of her before crouching down onto his haunches, legs coiling beneath him as he sought out her eyes.

"Yer safe. Took out what all was in here earlier ‘fore I found ya." He replied in a throaty growl trying to offer some sort of reassurance to her fears. Daryl was sure her mind was whirling about in regards to possible escape routes that could be managed and the small closed off space they were stuck in for the night.

\--//--

Carol had heard him before she saw him clearly as he squatted down before her. Their eyes met in the darkness, and that alone helped, but it wasn’t enough. She reached out then, touching his arm gently, before holding on tighter to him in case he were to suddenly disappear. She wanted to push herself against him, beg him to hold her, but she couldn’t do that to him. Not after everything. All of this was because of her in the first place. She’d taken enough from him considering all things that had happened since she’d taken two lives.

Her lips quivered just a bit. “I wondered how you knew this place was here.” She was glad that he had, or they’d still be out there searching for an escape from the walkers that were still desperately trying to get in the door by clawing and snapping at it. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them wide again when the darkness just made it worse.

There was a reason she never slept with her cell door closed. It had just been easier for her. She let out a shaky breath then. “Looks like we’re stuck here? At least for the night?” She lowered her hand slowly, letting her fingers move down his arm and find his fingers. She gave them a squeeze and wanted to hold onto them forever. Or at least until the light began to show, but she let them go reluctantly.

Her lips pressed together then. She shifted slightly and moved so that she was on her knees. Her lips then parted slightly and pressed against his cheek. She let them linger for a few seconds longer than she probably should have, but how often did she get to thank him for saving her ass?

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, tugging at the muggy air that hung between them as she let them float gently to his ears. "Could’ve left my ass to get eaten out there, but you saved me. You always do…" And she meant it in more ways than him physically saving her hide. He’d saved her in so many ways. A lot of those ways she couldn’t even begin to express with words.


	19. Chapter 19

“‘Spose that’s a fine assumption. Only fer the night.” He remarked resting his arms atop his knees still crouched down in front of her. He kept his gaze level with hers as it made them equal— even-grounded individuals.

When her fingers found the bicep of his arm curling with a firm grip, he flinched somewhat not really expecting the touch to begin with. It had been sudden and instinctively he wanted to recoil away from the gentle soft of her hand, but figured it was only done out of comfort and nothing more than that. He could hear the shaky puffs of breath falling from her lips and the slight shake from the tremble in her bones emanating just from her hand pressed against his arm.

It made him realize how very real everything was. The walkers pawing at the door. The warmth of flesh against his hand. The shuddering breaths from the both of them. Alive. Albeit worn for wear.

Boldly her fingers loosed from her grip and slowly trailed down to find his hand, fingers finding his own. He gulped down the large lump that had found it’s place lodged in his throat. There was a flutter and jostle of feelings in his stomach again; this quaking feeling of getting too close to the edge of a cliff, anxiously awaiting the crumble of its edge and falling along with it. Despite his best effort to keep from pulling away, he felt his hand slowly slipping out of her grasp just as hers began to do so. When she pulled away ending the subtle connection, the warmth from her hand was gone and the feeling along with it.

Daryl was taken aback when she shifted onto her knees inching closer to him. It was like a slow-motion montage as she leaned in towards him, the amount of space dissipating between them. He felt the brush of her lips against the stubble of his cheek and immediately set his chest into a breath of panic. He wanted to recoil, flinch away, anything that gave indication that he wanted no part of this, but he stayed still. A deer in the headlights. Blinkers in his head kept repeatedly slapping him upside the head telling him this wasn’t a good idea. This… Whatever this was… is what got people killed.

At the break of her lips from against his cheek, he coughed glad for the darkness that enveloped everything. His ears were hot and cheeks just as so from the flush creeping up his neck. He worked his jaw unsure of what to say before he grumbled, “Jus’ did what I was ‘sposed t’do.” He averted his attention elsewhere slightly embarrassed still hoping she didn’t notice.

\--//--

Even in the dark, Carol knew that she’d maybe rushed this a little and that she’d made him uncomfortable. That was the last thing she wanted to do to him. And yet, she wanted him to know that she was there and that she was grateful for everything he’d ever done for her. All of it. Because he didn’t have to give a damn about her at all. And he did. It caused the flutter of wings in her stomach to kick up again. She put her arm across her stomach and closed her eyes tight for a moment and took a shaky breath.

"Should we try and sleep?" Not that sleep would come easy for her tonight. It rarely ever did anymore, but it was something to do. "I can stay awake if you need some sleep," she offered. "I don’t mind, and it’s the least I can do…" She rocked back on her heels and then shifted so that she was sitting again. "Or are you hungry? There’s food in my pack…" She made a move to reach around him and grab it where it had fallen and ended up pressing against him, close to his face again.

She swallowed hard, the air getting thicker in there. Her skin crawled. It was for two very different reasons. Him being that close to her, feeling his still somewhat labored breathing against her skin and the tightness of the room around them. She felt her heart skip a beat then even out. “I think there’s some canned beanie weenies. You like those, don’t you?” She was trying desperately to get them back on a level ground where they weren’t tiptoeing around one another.

She crawled along the floor, keeping her distance this time and grabbed her pack and rummaged around inside and smiled when her fingers encircled a bottle of Gatorade. “Jackpot.” She pulled it from the pack and twisted the lid and took a sip to make sure that it hadn’t spoiled in the Georgia heat. It tasted like heaven and she took a longer drink and then leaving the cap off, offered it toward him. “Thirsty? There’s another in here for later if we need it.”


	20. Chapter 20

"I’ll take watch." He replied roughly chewing the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Carol with guard watch. He just knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep while being trapped in some cage all night long. The dead banging their claw-like hands and stumpy remains of limbs against the door trying their best to get in for the entire duration of the night— not a chance in hell would he find enough respite to sleep. When the morning light came, he would find a way out. Daryl was sure of it.

The twisted pang of hunger was eating away at him, but he said nothing in regards to his own standing on food. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind pork and beans, he frankly enjoyed them, he just felt the need to forego food as he’d rather she eat in spite of himself. It was how things worked. The women were taken care of first along with the children, old and sick; the men were then able to eat once food had been rationed out to everyone else. Only in recent months had it been different otherwise with food being much more plentiful with the raising of livestock and Daryl’s usual hunts every morning.

He waved her off at the offer of food, not letting on that he was in fact hungry. “I’m fine.” He grunted adjusting on his haunches for better posturing. The prickle of pins and needles ebbing down his calves from sitting crouched for so long.

When she leaned in close trying for her pack, immediately he caught the scent on her skin of fresh earth and what he could only assume was a light floral smell— a mixture of blood, sweat, earth and flowers. He wrinkled his nose not sure why he cared to catalog the scent or make sense of what it was he had caught a whiff of. Again Daryl could feel the insane roiling feeling in his gut and the incessant need to be out of the current space threshold he had with her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it. He just didn’t know how to deal with the sudden brushing and touching and hand-holding and chaste kissing— even if it was just his cheek. His head was spinning and swirling with things he didn’t quite understand and he wasn’t sure if it was okay to be this conflicted… Especially considering the present circumstances that they had befallen. His breath caught in his throat and he made no movement that what she was doing was an invasion of his space. He kept still, frozen almost like a statue, as her fingers found her strap and yanked her pack over closer to her his eyes following her movement as she retreated back to her spot.

As she rummaged through her pack his mind immediately set off in different pathways a jostle of mixed emotion and survival instincts kicking in. Her sudden excitement for the Gatorade and the nonchalant attitude in regards to the small stores of food left in her pack triggered something inside him. He felt his eyes narrow in slats and his hands ball into fists at his knees.

He sprang from his coiled position a bundle of anger and seething teeth grinding. He paced the small four foot space from the door being clawed at to where she sat— up and down a few lengths before stopping to turn and kick in one of the stall doors. A loud slam and a grunt echoed in the dark and he was sure the noise would draw any walker to them in a manner of hours; they’d have a cluster on their hands in the morning. He didn’t care. He was furious.

Rough hands raked through the sweaty shaggy tendrils of hair, as he felt anger towards everything. Daryl looked to one of the sinks, slamming his palm against the knob to be greeted with a loud groan and whine; an ominous pause of pipes left too long abandoned and water long gone encompassing the now present silence held between them. There was no water to be had here. He huffed dropping his head again, the warped foiled sheet of plastic that was a mirror pressed against his head as he was lost in thought, jaw working in a repetitive rhythm.

He kept himself grounded against the cool of the ceramic, hands placated at each side of the basin, fingers wrapped tight trying to hold himself steady to keep from imploding even more. He was sure he was frightening her with this sudden surge of anger and maybe she would ask and he would explain, but right now he had no words— not for her right now.

She wasn’t gon’ t’survive out here. Ain’t no way she’d make it.

Rick had been repeating that he’d given her a car and food… A weapon— just enough for her to make it. But… For how far and how long? The rambling that had come forth from the ex-Sheriff’s deputy had set him off in the first place in search of Carol— no reassurance from the man had made the harsh reality any better than it was that he’d sent the only other person he felt trust for out on their own. If there was a need to repeat something to almost make it true, appear true, hell even sound true— he’d be damned sure to bet that it wasn’t and that was the case about her stance out on her own.

Carol was no hunter. She’d only been taught how to skin and gut what he brought back on a given basis. Even then, Daryl took it upon himself do it when he knew he hadn’t shown her right proper how to do it. He glared into the sink, a definitive scowl set on his face. This had been a death sentence— not a means of escape from being ostracized by the others or death from Tyreese. Rick had known that. She could scavenge and that would do her some good, but that was always how it had been before. Scavenge until stores ran dry and mouths parched. He absently shook his head eyes still fixed at the bottom of the sink, scanning over the mix of blood and grime stained from time past.

Carol was strong, there was no denying that, but not survival instinctive strong as he was. He never needed nobody to take care of him. And he still didn’t. He was a self-sufficient hunter and tracker. A jack of all and master of none.

Daryl growled low deep in his throat glancing up into the twisted image of himself in the mirror. The evident curl of his lip, the knit of his brows, and the harsh glare of his steel eyes staring back at him. He snapped his fisted hand forwards and into the fake glass shattering it before stepping away head angled to the ground in a huffy fit of anger.

He was sure his hand was bleeding but he didn’t care. He uttered no words beyond a low hoarse grunt of: I’ll take watch.

\--//--

Carol’s entire being shrank back as small and tight to the wall as she could get. His sudden outburst hadn’t been expected. And it sure as hell wasn’t welcome. She wasn’t sure what had set him off, and she wasn’t about to open her mouth and ask now. So she watched him, listened to him, trying to find any clue as to what this was all about. Her heart hammered louder and louder. It was so loud that it drowned out the slamming of the stall door as he kicked it as hard as humanly possible. She clenched her eyes tight, reminding herself that this was Daryl and his anger would forever be directed at something inanimate. Never at her. Never at her, she repeated to herself.

She heard the whine and moan of the empty, rusted pipes, and knew that she needed to do something. She didn’t want him to get too far into himself that she couldn’t find him again for hours. She needed him here with her even if they didn’t speak or touch or even look at one another. She pushed herself up silently, slowly creeping forward. The air in the bathroom got thicker and thicker, making it damn near impossible to breathe, and she wanted desperately to open the door and run outside. She wasn’t good at this. She feared she never would be, but she had to try. She had to try and reach him.

She moved her hand out, about to touch his rigid back. With lips parted, she was posed to speak, but before she could his hand raised and rushed forward, thrusting it deep into the mirror that had been staring back at him. The sound caused her hand to pull back, almost as if he had burned her himself and her other hand clamped over her mouth to stifle a startled cry. She watched as his body and head angled in the opposite direction of her. Did he feel ashamed of what he’d done? His outburst was definitely warranted, but all she cared about was that he’d hurt himself. Everything else had been forgotten.

She rushed forward, eyes locked on him and reached to take his arm. “Daryl, you’re bleeding,” she stated firmly, not wanting to give him room to retreat and remove himself from her grasp. She had to get through to him. Her memory flashed back to that of the time he’d used those very knuckles to bask that young punk back at the farm. Randall was his name. She couldn’t see very well in the darkened room, but she managed to lead him toward a sliver of light that the moon had given them.

She shook her head as her fingers moved slowly over his hand, feeling for anything that could be broken. She knew the light wasn’t good enough to know if there was glass still wedged into it or not. “What did that mirror ever do to you?” It was the only way she could think to diffuse the tension, and hopefully bring him down from that huge ball of anger that she’d just witnessed. They’d talk about the real reason for his assult on the room around them once she had his hand bandaged and his temper down.


	21. Chapter 21

Her voice broke the silence. It didn’t draw him back as she likely thought it would. He was too angry… Bothered by it to allow himself respite. Sure— he had found her alive, but at what cost now that he had reasoned out why it was she had been exiled if what he truly came to believe was in all sense the correct thought process?

He didn’t know. Daryl would likely never understand. And he was glad he wouldn’t.

Her touch was a surprise to even himself as he was unbridled anger at this point, poised to strike— lash out at her. He didn’t though. He wanted to. How he wanted to shout. Bark at her. Tell her to get her hands off him. Tell her to stop bothering with his worthless hide. That his bleeding weren’t nothing more than just flesh wounds. More than anything else… He wanted to be left alone, but she wouldn’t let him be. She wouldn’t.

The sting of the shredded skin at the side of his hand and the soft patter of blood dribbling from the cuts made him instantly realize the extent of his actions. He winced at the tug at his arm where she had caught him in the dark wanting to assess what he’d managed to do to himself this time. She pulled him along towards a sliver of light filtered through the vents doing her best to examine how badly he had hurt himself. He didn’t know the depth in which he’d cut himself until she touched the tender flesh, fingers brushing lightly at the serrated skin dancing along the rough of his knuckles. His hand was still curled into a loose fist— no broken bones he reckoned if he could manage that.

Again Carol spoke, pulling him back just a bit from his endless cycle of unrelinquished anger and doubts about the situation had he not come across her when he did. Daryl was sure things would have likely turned out worse had he not left. Murderers. Rapists. Hunters. He knew what was out there beyond just the walkers that milled about. She could have easily been killed and he would never have known. He wrinkled his brow at the thought that men like that existed still in this world. Took what they wanted. Leaving nothing in their wake. The silence was stilling and his ragged breathing from the sudden burst from his stall-kicking and mirror-smashing made it all the more knowing that there was more than what he was letting on. After several staccato pauses, Daryl squared his shoulders tilting his head up to meet her gaze.

"You weren’t goin’ t’survive out here. This was a death sentence." He growled flatly pulling his hand away from her own not caring that he was bleeding all over himself. The pain didn’t matter nor did the clawing at their door.

Daryl was very much upset that a decision like this had come to light without the consent of council. That a life could simply be tossed aside as it was. The gravity of her actions were in fact serious, but just removing such stability as he saw her was all the more detrimental.

He grit his teeth, lip curling into a scowl as the more he thought about it the more it bothered him. “Yer no hunter.” He stated matter-of-factly as he continued running through his thoughts. “You weren’t meant t’survive on yer own. No one can.”

\--//--

Carol’s body tensed up. She’d known Rick was angry, but callous had never crossed her mind. She lowered her eyes a bit, looking down at her now empty hands were his had just been. They were sure to be covered in his blood now. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and shook her head. “I wouldn’t have given up, Daryl,” she promised him, not trying to push aside his fears and anger, but to show him that she wasn’t the same woman that he’d befriended at the farm. She was stronger now. She didn’t possess his skills, but she had several of her own. She liked to think she was strong. But maybe she wasn’t. She shook her head then, shrugging a bit.

She knew she was no match for the people out there. The other groups that belonged to this undead world that would rape, maim, murder… She swallowed then. She wasn’t any better than some of them, and yet, at the same time, she didn’t feel that her crimes should be judged through the same lens as those that had committed their crimes out of spite and rage and hatred. She’d done it so that the others might have had a better chance to survive and so that Karen and David hadn’t had to suffer anymore. She felt the tears that were hot as they pricked her eyes. She blinked rapidly, knowing he wouldn’t see them in the dark.

Once they were gone, she sucked in a deep breath, pulling it into her lungs so deep that she grew lightheaded from the simple task of it. She slowly let it out and reached for the hem of her shirt to find the tear that she’d ripped in it earlier at the prison and began to rip off the bottom of it. He needed a bandage and this was all they had.

"Rick made a choice, Daryl. One he has to live with. I can’t be angry at him. I guess, I talked him into it with all my talk of making decisions and owning them." She shrugged a bit then. "He was scared for his children." She knew men like Rick Grimes back before the world had gone to shit. You couldn’t call them selfish, even if that word seemed to fit best. All they were doing was looking out for the best interest of their family. And she got that. She’d be the same way now if Sophia had survived. Lizzie and Mika and this new responsibility was just that. New. She wasn’t ready for it. She hadn’t wanted it. But it was hers now.

"Come on. Let me bandage that up so the bleeding stops." She reached for his hand again. The difference being that this time she requested that he give her his hand of his own free will and not be forced. "Promise it won’t hurt." She stood more in the sliver of light than he did, and it made her feel exposed and not just because part of her stomach was bare, but because all of these emotions that were inside her, and she didn’t know what to do with them or where to place them.

"Besides, I’ve got you now." And she didn’t pose it as a question, but merely a fact. She had him all along, but during her brief lonely exile, she’d had no one. And hadn’t he come to fetch her and take her home? Or had that not been his intentions all along? She shook her head slightly, not wanting to go there. "We’ll always have each other…" In some way. Even after one of them was no longer living.

Unable to stop herself and the surge of emotions that ran through her, she stepped forward, bringing her palm up to lay flat against the side of his face. She closed her eyes. “Got to stop fighting it and others around us. Got to just let it be what it is.”


	22. Chapter 22

"Weren’t his choice t’make." He growled low keeping his eyes trained away from meeting her gaze. The soft shudder of her lips echoed loud as his breathing had ceased to come in haggard breaths— nerves having calmed down some from his fit of anger. He worked his jaw grinding his teeth in slight frustration.

Silence fell between them again as became lost in his thoughts once more. Daryl listened to her speak softly into the darkness and the tear of fabric being ripped apart. He didn’t acknowledge that he was still bothered by Rick’s decision nor that he was really paying much attention to anything else but his own rampant mind at work. When she took his hand he jerked it from her grasp. When she tried again, his head cocked in Carol’s direction as she led him into the dying light.

His attention was stolen by the glimpse of pale skin his eyes caught. The gnarled scar that ran from her hip across her navel keeping steady his gaze; eyes following every dip and hill from where stitches had ruined the healing flesh. He felt the beat of his heart thrum faster; the sound echoing louder and louder with each beat in his head as his eyes took in the result of a mistake having been made, an apology gone to the wayside. He was enamored by the jagged line of scar tissue and how incredibly similar it mirrored that of his own across his belly and down his groin.

He was reaching out with shaky fingers to brush lightly along the upraised tissue before he knew what he was doing. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat trying his best to gulp down the jostling fumble of his stomach and swirl of emotions that were rifling through his mind. He was curious about the feel, whether it was smooth as he thought it might be or rough, like callus. The moment he felt the warmth of her soft flesh, he immediately recoiled his hand suddenly aware of what he was doing and that she was avidly watching him. Daryl ducked his head shyly looking away, his hand dropping back to his side, fingers rubbing together. The warmth of her skin still burning itself into his fingertips like a brand.

Besides, I’ve got you now… always have each other…

Did she really? Did she really have him like she said she did? Did he really even have her? What did that even really mean? To have someone? They’d always had each other in the loosest of terms. They’d both been looked at as the outcasts more or less initially and slowly as time went on they became leaders in their own right. Stuck together as they did since the only one they could count on was the other. And the more he thought about it the more it made sense: her words. She had him wrapped around her finger and she likely didn’t even know how much her presence mattered to him. How much knowing she was a constant in his life meant.

Even before he even knew her story, Daryl had near died for her daughter and he really didn’t even know the woman to begin with nor cared much for her. He’d stayed out of the pair’s way as they had done the same for him. The moment he had seen the flicker of sadness in Carol’s eyes when the walkers had chased her down the ravine, he’d felt a sudden obligation to do what it took to find that little girl. It was an unspoken beacon of hope that some remote good could come out of this world. That there could still be luck. The Cherokee rose he had found had been just a measure of reassurance to help her through the trial of loss as something resonated in him that this was something he felt he should do.

Daryl would never admit how much he felt his world crashing down around him when he’d found her head-wrap beside T-Dog’s mangled body and her pistol empty of rounds abandoned on the ground. The sinking feeling that he’d never see her again, that she had just simply disappeared like all else in his life, ran heavy through his chest. It was a choking feeling despite the fact that he was neither being suffocated nor drowned. It just went to show how much he took her for granted.

The weight of how much it mattered to him knowing that she was around made him realize how much of a constant she was in his life. It was like they had trained each other to seek the other out amongst a crowd, silently acknowledging that the other was there. Expressions without words. Quiet resolve that things would be okay.

The press of her hand against his cheek pulled him away from his thoughts and he instinctively reeled back from the touch before he knew exactly what was going on. Again the lump in his throat stuck and his breaths stopped. He felt a wash of anxiety flood his system at the simple gesture— afraid of what she could incline to mean.

"Fight what? Let be what what is?” He finally grunted, brow drawn up in slight confusion, heart hammering in his chest. He was rigid at her touch, sweat beading at his temple, hair bristling along the back of his neck. His walls were being thrown up once more— protection from being hurt. Daryl didn’t want to give himself away, allow such vulnerability only to know that nothing ever lasted in this world. Not anymore.

He stuffed his non-injured hand into his pocket, fingers playing with the smooth surface of the jasper stone. The aversion of attention slowly calming his errant nerves. The taste of copper was pungent in his mouth having chewed his cheek to the point of breaking the skin. He winced slightly feeling the shred of skin as his tongue ran along his teeth.

"I don’t know what yer meanin’." He replied thickly keeping his focus attuned to the stone in his pocket. Daryl was sure this was that moment: hell or high-water and he wasn’t ready.

\--//--

Carol’s skin tingled where his finger had dared to touch her. She wanted more. She wanted to be greedy and beg him to put his hands on her, touch her, feel her and know she was real and there and that she was his for the taking, but she knew she had to slow down. She had to let him regain his footing, or this could all just blow up in her face. She swallowed a little harder than she’d intended, feeling the lump burn her throat. She fought the discomfort and focused on the electric feeling he’d just sent from the scar and straight to her very gut. She let her eyes flutter closed.

This had been what had spurred her forward, moving her into his immediate space again, touching him. She couldn’t stop touching him. It was like an addiction that she had to feed or it would eat her up inside. She whispered, “It’s okay. Daryl, please?” Her hand came up again, this time her knuckles brushed over his cheekbone lovingly. Her eyes were slightly closed, head tilted as she looked up at him. There wasn’t a better time than now to figure this all out, and she knew it. She knew it deep inside her heart. Just like she knew it would likely have to be her to state the facts, make the bold moves, and risk the rejection of her advances. But she had to put them out there, risk her very heart because she didn’t want to give it to no one else.

It was more than them just being pulled together from similar home lives. It was more than the constant beat down the world seemed to throw at them. They were an unlikely pairing from the get go, but it hadn’t stopped the flourish of their friendship. And what was a relationship if you didn’t have friendship first? True friendship. And they had that. They’d always had that.

Until the sickness had invaded the prison and forced her hand to do something without his counsel, without his having her back. She lowered her eyes for a moment and took another shaky breath. Her hand lowered from his cheek and instead it and her other moved to his hips, fisting tight the fabric of his shirt and taking another step into him. They’d made peace with that. That’s why they were here with walkers pawing at the doors, desperate to get to them and tear into their flesh. What if this was their last night together? It was thoughts like these that kept her going, kept her trying to survive at all costs. She’d had precious little time at his side, and she wasn’t ready for that to be over. No matter how she got him in the end.

And she called him on it. “You know damn well what I’m talking about, Daryl.” Wasn’t that how they worked? They didn’t allow the other to throw around bullshit words and mind games. She was being open, honest, and she knew he got what she had been meaning all along. She moved up, quietly on tip toe. His attention was focused elsewhere, focused on whatever it was he had in his pocket and that for a second drew her attention too. She moved her hand from his hip and down to hook her fingers into his pocket. She was living dangerously at this point, and she didn’t care. Better to have known she had put herself out there for the taking than to know she was a coward when they could have it all. Together.

"Whatcha got?" she said, playful tone to her voice. Curious as the cat she often referred to herself as. Nine lives and all. "Can I see?"


	23. Chapter 23

He heard the bite in her voice as she called him out on his words. She knew that he knew what she was talking about. He was trying to play it aloof in case what he assumed she was talking about wasn’t the same as what she was thinking, but her response begged to differ otherwise. Her tone was sharp and to the point. Glenn liked teasing him about Carol when they were out of earshot of the others and he always scoffed claiming there was nothing going on between them and there hadn’t been.

There wasn’t. At least that’s what he told himself.

He swept everything under the rug as if the subtle flirting and gentle touches were nothing more than just teasing between friends. Of course, they all knew better. Daryl just didn’t want to let on that he was weak to allow someone over the walls he had built up for so long. He just didn’t want to admit that there was someone that actually cared about him. Someone that actually wanted him. That he in turn actually did care.

And that right there, truly scared him.

The tension was knotting itself up in his gut even more when her hand came to settle at his hips, fingers clutching tight the material of his clothes. He gulped; throat bobbing as he swallowed down the anxiety that came to the coils of tension inside his stomach. There was somersaulting in his chest and pin prickles ebbing up and down the tips of his fingers. Daryl was sure his breathing had stopped altogether as he coughed trying to take in a breath, chest heaving some.

When her hand came to settle at his hand that he’d dug into his pocket, Daryl’s head snapped up eyes meeting hers for a brief second before averting elsewhere to some rusty pipe he could barely make out in the dark. His mouth fell open a little unsure of what to say or to really react to her bold actions. Shutting his mouth, Daryl squared his shoulders standing more upright before replying, “Mrs. Richards wanted me t’find a jasper stone fer her old man. Fer his grave marker. If I could when I was out on that medicine run.”

Removing the green stone from his pocket he held it out for her to take, if she chose to. It was just a little lopsided green stone. It had been his means of calming down after his tussle with Bob when he’d found the bottle of liquor and nothing else in the other man’s bag. A means of resolve with his irritation directed at Michonne for leaving as she did when they both knew the Governor’s trail was stone cold. He’d already told her before that if the trail were hot he’d be out there hunting him down.

When Carol didn’t ask about the stone in question, Daryl ducked his head a little before he met her gaze. “It’s meant t’provide protection… Give balance… Zen so to speak. ‘Least that’s what Mrs. Richards says.” He gruffed a little embarrassed about the explanation, working his jaw as he observed her for some sort of reaction.

His eyes studied her features carefully assessing the wear of the world that was marked in her features. The grey of her hair a little more prominent than before, the makings of frown marks imbedding themselves from the lack of luck that they seemed to endure. Her eyes though shone of brilliance and a lit fire that he seldomly recalled to smolder down. There was always some flash of hope in her eyes that he sought out and it eased his own worries when he caught the flicker of her gaze on him.

The quell of anger from earlier had fizzled out and he felt a complacent sense of calm despite the ever impending scratching and thumping of walkers at their door. He’d learned to drown out the ever present death knells they seemed to bring about with them wherever they went. He reckoned it had more to do with how commonplace and routine it all was to him— just the same old same old like the world before ceased to exist.

\--//--

Carol noted the nervous swallow, watching his Adam’s Apple bob in the moonlight. It was one of the most adorably awkward things she’d ever witnessed about him and so much different than the actions previous to this night. She kept her one hand fisted in his shirt, afraid that if she lost all contact with him that the moment would be broken, that it would be over before it had even begun, and she wasn’t ready for that.

 

She needed him. She wanted him in the worst way. And not for sex. They had something so much more important than sex, but she supposed it was the natural order of things, and they’d come to it when and if the time was right. She wasn’t about to rush things. She hadn’t even been kissed by him yet, and here her mind was wandering to sex. She had to refocus on the moment at hand and what he was telling her.

A stone? A jasper stone. She gave a slight nod when he showed it to her. It was a dull looking rock, and she had no idea of its importance or its meaning, but it must have been important to the old man and woman alike for Daryl to look so hard for something. It showed her once again that he was already taking what she’d said to him and been running with it. He was learning to live with the love. And that warmed her heart more than anything in that moment. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, letting his words wash over her.

Her hand lifted from his pocket where she’d hooked her fingers and up to his hand. Her fingers danced across his palm, delibrately and slowly before she took the stone and held it in her hand. “This little rock does all that?” She tilted her head and brought it closer to inspect. She was awstruck that he took the time to talk to the older lady and learn so much. She chewed at the inside of her cheek a little bit before lifting her eyes up to search his.

He’d been watching her. She could feel it, making the butterflies in her gut all the more crazy. She wanted to clear her throat or take a step back to make them settle again, but when could she remember feeling this good? This alive. She quite liked it. Her hand against his other hip loosened its hold on his shirt but remained where it was and gently stroked his hipbone. Again it was a deliberate action. Almost as if she was getting him ready for more intimate touches and feelings. Guiding him through the steps to their many sets of firsts. She never allowed herself to think of any lasts they might encounter on their journey. She wanted to live in the moment, move forward and face the days together. No matter how many they might have.

"Has it worked for you?" she asked, a softness to her tone that begged for the honest truth from not only his mouth but from his heart. She slowly deposited the stone back into his hand, curling it into his fingers with her own and somehow managing to hold it together with him.

She felt that she already knew the answer. That it had indeed helped him some or he wouldn’t have been so desperate to keep it tucked away in secret there in his pocket. She slowly let her hand fall from his, but keeping her other hand in place. The same pattern was traced over and over again with her thumb. Her eyes moved up again, flicking up to meet his in the darkness.


	24. Chapter 24

The soft grazing of her fingers along his palm sent a shiver tingling down his spine and a wash of anxiety through his entire being— feeling like a cold breeze had blown right through him. He shivered not realizing that it had caused such a reaction from him. She was doing it on purpose. This much he knew. The mischievous glint in her eye was quite evident from the light that bounced off her pale blue irises in the dark. She always did like riling him as she did, poking and prodding until she hit his limit and he put his foot down: a stern glare and a drawled stop.

Pausing her intricate dance along the lines of his palm, her fingers deftly plucked the stone from his outstretched hand examining it as he spoke— explaining its reasoning; a subtle reasoning to why he had sought it’s comfort. Daryl could see the visible twitch of a smile on her lips as he watched the multitude of thoughts swirling through her head. A furrowed brow arched dubiously, curiously at her. What was she thinking? What made her smile like she was now? He wondered keeping his staring to a set minimum of stolen glances beneath the fringe of his bangs.

His breath hitched when she played along his waistband, fingers brushing lightly along his hip. He uttered a choked shudder immediately feeling like a teenaged-boy: fool-hardy and stupid. His cheeks burned from the heat of embarrassment as he looked away keeping his eyes fixed on something else, not daring to look her in the eye. He felt ashamed that her touch like that, be it innocent or not, had him getting worked up over it… Flustered to a fault.

The jeering voice of Merle echoed in his ears, silently taunting him from beyond. Had the bastard been alive he was sure Merle would have been teasing him ‘till the roosters crowed and the cows came home. Even before the world went to shit and it seemed to spin on a less off-kilter axis, Daryl had never been any good with women. Both he and Merle knew this well. He, of course, would never admit that being touched as he was by a woman damn near scared him to kingdom come.

It wasn’t just the touching or the affection that got under his skin. It was the idea knowing that once they saw who Daryl Dixon really was… they would just leave him and find another. Whether it was out of boredom or simply giving up on him, they left all the same as any other person did that came into his life. And they would look for someone that was better looking. Someone more competent. Someone more deserving. Someone that was good enough. Someone with a better car and a better house. Someone that was worth their time. Dixon’s weren’t worth much more than they could be thrown. Everyone knew that.

How was it that she didn’t know that? What made him seem so worthy of her attention? Why? Why was he worth any of her time? Why didn’t she just give up on him already?

He shook his head absently before answering her question. He’d forgotten that she had asked him something lost in a trail of his doubts. “Yeah, helped me some,” he finally grunted out hoarsely welcoming the cool of the rock back in his palm, her fingers wrapping about his as they held the stone together.

Together.

Why did things like this suddenly matter? What did he care if he had anyone? He never needed nobody and he sure as hell didn’t now… and yet somehow, he felt that wasn’t completely true. In the great scheme of things, he was very much alone in this world. He was the last of his kin. Her thumb rubbing along his hip as she was currently doing was driving him crazy as it fell in rhythm with the ever-present crescendo of his heart thrumming inside his head. It was a noise buzzing heavily in his ear along with the doubts that wouldn’t let up. Without a word spoken, Daryl held her hand firmly in place. The gentle stroking ceasing along the dip of his hip as he glared at her not sure why it had suddenly bothered him causing a twinge of anger stirring in his belly.

In his mind he felt this was all some weird twisted dream of the hidden wants and desires he dared not utter allowed or let be known. He felt vulnerable and it bothered him to his core that Carol rendered him so useless like this— incapable of proper functioning like up was down and left was right. It made no damned sense and it was frankly getting to the point of being abhorrent that he simply did not understand it. He growled low under his breath hoping that she hadn’t heard him over the clawing and scratching of the walkers on the other-side of the door.

Daryl removed himself from her space, taking several steps back, before beginning his pacing once more, hands raking through his hair, jasper stone fisted in his hand as he kept it close trying to ease his troubles. He was a torrent of mixed-emotions. The calm before the storm, he was sure. He hadn’t felt this torqued up since he had come across the severed hand of Merle lying on the rooftop of the building in Atlanta, all eyes on him as he paced back and forth unsure of how to deal with what he’d been staring it.

Huffing loudly, Daryl paused at the door staring absently at it, eyes bouncing back and forth, swallowing the thick air that stilled around him. He hoped he could hold himself together… that he had enough willpower to keep from lashing out… that he was capable of making sense of these emotions, doubts, and thoughts all running a rampant marathon inside his head.

\--//--

Carol knew she’s sparked a reaction when she’d took her time getting the stone. She knew she’d caused something in him that would conflict him, but she hoped to guide him and reassure him. She wanted nothing more than to show him that he deserved to be happy, to be loved like she loved him. She wanted to share her life with him. In. Every. Way. Her eyes were soft as she kept them steady on him, listening and trying to pick up whatever cues he was giving her about where his mind was at.

His body reacted to her touching his hip. Just exactly what she’d wanted and needed at that very moment, but she wanted her touch to relax him. It only keyed him up again, and she was too afraid to stop now. Afraid of sending the wrong message to his already over stimulated mind. She leaned in just a bit more, watching his eyes as she did so. Something flashed there. Albeit momentarily, it was there just the same. She swallowed hard. Her throat dry again as she did. So many emotions radiated through him, off of him, around him. And she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing by constantly pushing it and him to the breaking point. They’d been through enough in the last hour or so, but something deep down inside wouldn’t let her stop.

She hadn’t imagined the flash in his eyes when their fingers were wrapped together and holding the very stone that seemed to bring him that peace that nothing else could. It was why she’d given it back. He needed it more than most. And she wanted to give him whatever he needed to feel comfortable and standing there with her. Her fingers fell from his hand and she stood there, the only touch being the one at his hip. She curled her fingers into his hip bone slightly before picking up the gentle touch.

His hand around her wrist, stilling her, made her look up, meeting his eyes. She saw something there that thrilled her to the very core. He was fighting her, fighting his feelings for her, and fighting her feelings for him. Wasn’t it how it always was with them? Didn’t it always come down to this? Didn’t it always come down to how far they could let the other push back before one of them caved and just let it go? She’d always stopped, letting it go to fight again another day. Today she didn’t want to give up and just stop. Today, she wanted to press the envelope. Today she wanted to see just how far she could go without him lashing out and putting them four steps back after two steps forward.

The low growl hit her ears. She felt a rumbling in her belly as her heart skipped a beat and then repeated the experience. She felt her very toes tingle at the prospect that maybe she was on the verge of a breakthrough with him. Her hands fell to her sides, unable to hide the emotion as it was reflected in her eyes. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She took a hesitant step forward, not letting him leave her space completely.

"Why won’t you let me love you?" she breathed out. Her voice was a hiss in the darkness. The rejection was finally getting to her. Finally shining through her carefully placed wall. Her heart completely on her sleeve. She’d never known there was a man like Daryl Dixon in the world. Not when she’d saddled herself with Ed so long ago.

And she’d told herself she was happy. That she’d make a life for herself. She wouldn’t be alone. And for a long time that had been enough. Then she’d found herself pregnant, and he hadn’t wanted children. Or maybe he had, but not with her. He made that perfectly plain with every sharp word that left his forked tongue. Everything was fine until Sophia had been born. Then the drinking got heavier and heavier. He’d taken to staying out at all hours of the night, and when that wasn’t enough to dull him to the noise in his house, the beatings began.

For the longest time, she told herself that it was her fault. That if she’d only be a better wife and mother, that he’d change. Everyone could change. She’d convinced herself of that. And she remembered the promise that she’d made to herself long ago when her own mother struggled to raise her and her brother while being a single woman. She promised herself that no matter what happened, she’d make her marriage work. She’d not give up and be alone to raise her child.

She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. She was unable to look at him then. Ashamed that she’d been weak. That she’d shown him that weakness inside her. Even if it had only been for a moment. She loved him. With every fiber of her being, and she had accepted awhile ago that he might not ever be ready for her. And she’d promised that she wouldn’t push. That she’d be happy no matter how she had him. Being near him was enough. It had to be. Then Rick had exiled her. He’d thrown her to the wolves outside their door without so much as a second thought.

And she’d though she’d lost him forever then. Then he’d shown up. And everything went bottom side up, and she was still struggling to catch up with it all. And she’d never been more afraid of anything in that moment because the words she’d just spoken she couldn’t take back.


	25. Chapter 25

"Why won’t you let me love you?"

Daryl felt his heart leap from out of his chest and onto the floor. Everything seemed to just… Stop. The pawing on the other side of the door was muffled and the drumming in his head a slow staccato echoing long into the stilling silence that was settling between them.

He froze, gulping the tension down as his brain tried processing her words. Trying its best to understand what she was saying. He felt unsteady and uneasy. The anxiety building itself back up again. His walls padding themselves high.

This was what he was most afraid of. Allowing someone to love him. Allowing himself the vulnerability to be loved. It wasn’t something he could just easily allow. Something he could simply let happen.

He turned slowly to look at her but only caught the glimpse of her back to him. The wrinkle in his brow asserted itself on his face as he turned fully around to face her. With her back to him, Daryl had a subtle idea as to how she felt. A silent rejection. And it bothered him some that she turned away from him. For the first time in a long time he felt ashamed for what he’d done. It was hard for him to admit, but he had fucked up. They both knew it.

Working his jaw, he played with the stone in his hand, rolling his fingers over its smooth surface. He found himself glaring down into the concrete of the bathroom floor, eyes catching the glimmer of moonlight reflected off the shards of broken mirror from his temper earlier before. He’d all but forgotten about his bleeding hand as his knuckles were white from the tension of his hand having been balled into a tight fist. Coagulated blood collected in the slivers of shredded skin, light sting of pain flitting up his hand.

The more he thought about why he refused to allow her to get too close to him the more he found that he was hiding himself away. Dismissing what everyone knew to be true, but himself. Daryl wasn’t a bullshitter. He’d tell her the truth whether he wanted to or not. That was how they operated. Open honesty.

Except for this.

This was something they didn’t speak. It was some unwritten rule between them that they never spoke of and it worked for a while. It did. But things changed. They had changed.

He was still surly and aloof, but his unbridled temper had settled down. The callous and selfish remarks were almost nonexistent. His time and efforts spent were to protect and provide for others. His own wants had been tamped down and put to the wayside. He’d never asked for anything more than that his group mates… His family… Be accepting of his blood. Be accepting of Merle. He’d been denied that and then some.

What is it that she wanted from him? What did she want? Did she really want him? Or was it simply the idea of being with him that was appealing?

"Why do you even bother?" He finally uttered in a hoarse voice. Daryl was no longer studying the ground as he had before, but was keening his gaze at the small of her back somewhat afraid to quite meet her gaze if she was so inclined to turn around at that moment.

Taking a step forward, he brought the heels to the hollows of his eyes, vigorously rubbing. He didn’t get it. Didn’t know why she wanted so badly to be with him. “I ain’t no good. I can’t be what you want.” He admitted low and mostly to himself, running his heels up and slowly to settle at the nape of his neck, fingers twisted in the length of his hair. “I’m no good at any o’ this.”

Huffing loudly he turned to head towards the door. Leaning his back against it, he slid down to the ground until he was sitting. His head thumped against the rattle of the door as Daryl persisted to keep his stunted attention on Carol’s form in the dark. He was anticipating some sort of reaction to his affirmations of doubts. He wondered what she was thinking. If she was deciding on whether to give up on him. If he was being honest with himself, he hoped she wouldn’t.

Everyone else had at one point. She seemed to be the only one still standing in his corner in spite of the nasty things he had said to her or the way he acted out towards her affections, outright denying them.

"Why don’t you give up on me?"

It was the one thing he most wanted to understand. The why? Why did Carol put up with him as she did? What made him worth her while? Why?

The banging on the door was slowly working his nerves the more he sat against it and the more he became angry with himself over the present situation at hand. Pushing up from his sitting having had enough of the incessant desires of the walkers to get their hands on them, he felt a knot of tension coil itself in his chest tight around his heart. He found his feet taking him over towards her; his mind swirling about with his doubts again.

She had been the one to push his buttons. Why should she be the one to set the limits when all he’d established was the amount of push she had with him? He moved quietly into her space feeling the wash of adrenaline kick in— cool rush of tingling flitting down his spine and into the tips of his fingers. He pinned her against the wall, steel eyes boring into her own. He pressed his palm flat against the wall above her head, the other at her ear.

There was no taking this back now. Daryl was already pushing his own limits with the breach with physical proximity he was impeding on. Never in his right mind would he ever reckon he’d be this close to Carol to have her under his thumb as he did. Now that he had her pinned, Daryl really had no clue what he was doing. He swallowed the anxiety that was building again down before looking away, embarrassed and ashamed that he’d gone such lengths. “What d’you want from me?” He hissed under his breath trying to make heads or tails of everything.

It was in this moment that he was very aware of what walls he had just breached and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear her answers.

\--//--

Carol’s heart hammered in her chest. She hadn’t ever dared to be so bold, nor blunt, with him. He was delicate in that respect, and she hadn’t wanted to send him tripping over his feet as he went running for the hills. And she hadn’t wanted to finally have an answer as to what they were. Tonight, she’d have it no matter how much it broke her heart, shattering it into so many pieces that it would be impossible to put it back together again. She’d never wanted anyone half as much as she wanted the wounded man there with her. He filled in the cracks and missing pieces of her heart with a delicate balance that almost left her breathless and aching when he wasn’t in her immediate vacinity.

Her back was to him, unable to look at him and see just what she knew to be the truth. He didn’t love her. Yet, he did. Just not the same way in which she loved him. And how could she expect any less? She’d been too cowardly to leave Ed. She’d been too cowardly to save her daughter. All she had to do was keep an eye on her. And the words from their past came up and slapped her so hard across the face that she visibly flinched. What decent honorable man would want her? Daryl deserved so much better.

Carol’s heart then skipped at beat when he began to speak. His voice was low and gravely as it hit her ears. And just as she was about to turn and pour her heart out to him, he spoke again. And the words broke her heart. He truly believed the lies and vile things he’d been told all his life. She had seen changes in him since the farm. She’d watched him grow and blossom before her very eyes, and she was so proud of the man he was today. The man that he’d made of himself because the people behind him pushed him and appreciated him. She never took any credit for that man. She knew it had been in him all along. And she’d been right.

And then she heard his admission. He was no good at any of this. And she couldn’t agree and disagree more. That was one of the reasons she’d fallen for him. He was so honest and childlike in that aspect. But there was nothing childlike about the man at the same time. He was everything all rolled into one. And it made him vulnerable. She suspected that she was the only one in whole life to not exploit that vulnerability and glean from it what she could to suit her own fancy. She’d seen Rick do it. Too many times to count. And she’d held her tongue. The only thing that she wanted from him was himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

She turned to face him just as he moved against the door and sat down. She could only make out his outline in the darkness. Her heart ached, breaking just a little bit more as she took a hesitant step forward with an aching need to comfort him. “Because I can’t…” Her voice was lost in the darkness, unsure if he’d even heard her words. She was moving forward first one step then the next. Suddenly, he was on his feet, moving toward her, and she froze. Until he forced her backwards several steps and had her pressed against the wall. Her breath caught in her throat as he loomed over her. She could smell him. The mixture of sweat and dirt and the manly smell of him.

She couldn’t think or speak as she was very aware of his hands coming to rest right below her ear and near the top of her head. She was trapped, but then again, she wasn’t. One push from her and he’d be moving backwards out of her space, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t dare at all. She locked eyes with him, tilting her head slightly. And he turned his head away before he spoke. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing labored as the emotions that hung in their air were damn near tangible.

Her hands came up, taking his face in her hands and pulling his head back around to search his eyes before she softly whispered, “All I want is you.” She lifted up on her toes, pressing her mouth to the corner of his for a second before shifting again and pressing her soft lips flush to his. Her eyes slipped closed. It seemed like time all but stopped.


	26. Chapter 26

Her words caught him off guard.

All I want is you.

Did she really? Could she really want him? Could she honestly love him like she thought she did? Like she believed she did?

He’d come to take her home, back to the prison, in spite of whatever repercussions awaited him…them upon arrival. He’d deal with Tyreese if he had to. That didn’t matter to him. He could handle him when all was said and done. Dixons weren’t afraid of nobody.

And yet, this was simply more than he was bargaining for. More than he could ever swallow. He knew he’d never been any good… never be any good with his feelings. Only good at letting others be aware of the heart he left pinned at his sleeve. He was often an open gaping wound, but kept tight lipped about his internal monologue of thoughts. Never really allowing others to get too close. He couldn’t risk them seeing the turmoil that writhed inside himself.

Her hands caught his head gently angling him to face her, stealing himself away from the damnation he was condemning himself for. Daryl’s eyes met hers for a brief moment before shutting them— ashamed to look at her. Carol had been searching for something in his own, but he didn’t care to let her try. He didn’t want her to try. He still felt at best a little bit more than useless. He’d tried getting a reaction out of her— gauge where it was he stood with her— and she’d simply stared up at him as he leered down at her. What more could he do?

Instead of tackling it head on, he turned away from the problem— running away as he did.

Then… Everything seemed to still. He felt the brush of her lips at the corner of his mouth and instinctively he pulled away some, breaking the contact. He figured she would simply give up as he was battling her the entire way through it all. This was his way of trying to keep her from getting hurt. Or was it he himself keeping himself from being hurt? He felt guilty that he had been letting on that there could somehow be something more between them, but he couldn’t remember when that line had blurred and he’d found himself seeking her out amongst the others or simply feeling more at ease knowing that she was simply nearby.

Daryl had felt the need to find her. And the more it wrangled around his mind, the more it came to light that he’d gone because he needed her. Needed the comfort of this constant person in his life. The only steady thing that seemed to persist in spite of all the drawbacks that seemed to follow. But here he was running around in circles of his self-doubt. He knew it could never be so easy for him to relent and allow this extension of vulnerability.

The electric shock that jolted him to snap his eyes open as he felt the press of her lips against his lingered for a few steady heartbeats. The thoughts in his head were halted. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes were wide still unable to process what exactly all was going on. Her small hands held his face close to hers, thumb brushing gently against the stubble of his jaw. The resistive urge to remove himself from her proximity was immediately compromised. Daryl stood rigid unable to will himself to move.

The knotted coils of tension slowly ebbed away and he felt his heart drop out through the bottom of his chest. A tingling sensation ran the gamut of his neck down to the middle of his back, zigging and zagging the length of his spinal column. There were so many mixed emotions and thoughts running through his head all of a sudden, Daryl couldn’t keep track of how fast everything seemed to be spinning.

Everything was all at once and then suddenly it was nothing. It simply stopped.

Daryl stopped thinking. He stopped breathing. Stopped moving. He simply stopped trying to take that one step back that would send any progress back even more. He pulled away breaking their connection waiting on his nerves to settle and his heart to steady some as it was pumping rapidly against his chest threatening to break free from its bony cage. His hand hesitated to slide down from where he had settled it next to the short wisps of hair by her ear. The compulsion to touch was hanging in the air.

Daring to venture forth, his hand hovered near her cheek, fingers rubbing out of sheer fear that he may be rejected. That she would finally deny him what he’d been persistently denying her all this time. He rubbed his thumb along his index finger contemplating whether or not he should or shouldn’t follow through with his action. She’d boldly taken the first step. Now it was his turn.

Swallowing the thick lump of anxiety that was slowly suffocating him, Daryl brought his hand down, fingers lightly brushing along her cheekbone. Her skin warm and soft beneath his fingertips. Elation was spiking in his chest, but he felt like at any moment she would push him away and simply put an end to this game of cat and mouse.

Brows knitted in confusion as he was unsure of how exactly he should feel in that moment. The scowl that curled his lips set itself but fell as he was doing his best to assess the hammering that had started up in his chest again. His eyes slowly began roving over her features taking note of the light smackle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He’d never really noticed until now. He was incredibly close to her and each visible line of age was evident. The grey in his whiskers was proof of that in himself.

Finding her eyes, Daryl caught the flicker of something. Her jaw was taut and gently he caught her cheek in his bloodied hand, thumb grazing along her cheekbone. The words were stuck in his throat and he was sure as the sun would rise in the west that it would be near impossible for him to loose them. He hoped that his next action spoke more than he ever would.

The breath he’d been holding fell from his lips just as the tension slipped from his bones and his rigid posture relaxed some. The height of his shoulders sagged some coming off the rush of having taken that one step forward. Daryl could never be tamed. He wouldn’t allow it. He’d heard that wild hearts couldn’t be broken and he supposed that this was somewhat true in his case. He was rife with wild tendencies and it was near impossible to get him to just settle down.

Sucking in a staggered breath, he shut his eyes leaning forward. He was going to fumble. His nose brushed along hers feeling the stunted puffs of breath along his skin and he immediately recoiled back feeling the instinct to flee in him building itself in his gut. The taunting he could hear in his ear was creeping its way back telling him that he was making a damned fool of himself. Absently shaking his head, he felt a surge of determination. There would be no backing down if he could help it. Biting the inside of his cheek, he tried again, cracking an eye open slightly. Pressing his chapped lips against hers, Daryl felt the muscle around his heart tighten and his brow knit in slight pain. It was like he was strangling himself but then not. It was a tangle of anxious ardor.

This was simply too much. In that moment he realized he would never be enough for her. Daryl Dixon would never be the man she thought him to be. He would always be less than enough. And he would only disappoint her.

\--//--

Carol’s thumb thrummed over his cheek, feeling the stubble against her fingertips and palm. She’d never wanted anything more than she had in this moment. It was all or nothing, and she knew deep down that she’d have to help him and guide him through this. At least for a little while. She understood his want to keep people at arm’s length. She’d never do anything to embarrass him or bring any unwanted attention his way. She just wanted to be with him, share their quiet moments, and connect with him like this. She lowered her eyelids slightly, looking up at him with a soft expression of complete love and total understanding. Devotion if she wanted to go that far. Because that was the truth. She loved him with her entire being.

Her right hand slid down from his face and against his neck, cupping it and bringing him ever closer as she stepped back down to the ground flat on her feet. She was unsteady from the smell and feel of his lips against hers. They were everything like she expected them to be and nothing at the same time. She’d never been able to imagine this feeling no matter how hard she had tried. This was the moment of truth, and she wouldn’t have wanted it to be anything less than what it was. She felt his lips leave his once more, and she tucked her bottom lip under her top teeth and let out a soft whimper. Now that she’d had this, she couldn’t go back to the way things were if she tried.

The fluttering in her gut were white hot heat. She trembled slightly, just wanting to press her mouth to his again, but she had to wait for him to catch up. She had to let him react, and she had to be patient above anything else. She was his. And she hoped that he was hers. And if she was honest with herself, that had been true for longer than either of them had both admitted. It wasn’t lost on her that when they stood in a group or sat, they were always close to the other. That when the conversations with the council were over, they lingered behind to have their own little meeting and get to the heart of it all. She trusted him beyond any measure, and in time, she could only hope that he’d be able to do the same with her again. After everything, she wanted to make amends.

The movement of his hand had her eyes darting to the side, watching and hopeful. She tightened her grip on his neck as she let her other hand slide down his chest to come to rest at his hip. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and parted her lips slightly. Her breathing was nowhere near under control, and she had to will herself to just breathe. In and out, she felt the air filling and dispelling from her lungs. Her eyes were shifting from his hand to his eyes again, watching him as he wrestled with the feelings and emotions and how hard it was for him. It was both beautiful and painful to see.

He’d never known good touch. She was his first. That much she was certain, and she wanted to encourage and guide him, but she had to let him try first. She had to let him be the man that she’d known was there all along. She had to let that man see that he could have the things he desired in the world so long as the woman before him was patient and understanding. She’d never rush or utter a harsh word of impatience. It wasn’t how they worked. It would never be how they worked.

Her eyes closed of their own free will at the faintest touch of his fingertips along her cheekbone. She leaned into him more, holding him close to her. Her hand released the fabric of his shirt and slid around his waist to his lower back and all but pressed him forward, encouraging him and just loving him. Her hand that was at his neck loosened a bit and her thumb slipped along his jaw in a tender stroke only to repeat again and again. She let her eyes open slowly, taking him in as he watched her. It was like he was seeing her for the first time. It made her heart skip a beat. She held her breath, hoping that he’d close the distance and kiss her this time.

Her eyes danced along his as they drank each other in. Her body pliable against him. She’d follow him anywhere, no questions asked, and do whatever he needed. It made her feel good to know that this had all been for something. Her hand left his neck and settled upon his chest over his very heart. She could feel it thrumming beneath her very palm. It only intensified her own reaction and caused the butterflies to make round after round of flight and sudden dips in her gut. She felt like she was on the Ferris Wheel and she’d crested the top and started down and around the bottom curve only to repeat over and over.

She watched as his eyes slipped shut. His head moved forward, lower still. Their noses brushed, sending a jolt up and down her spine. She dug her nails slightly into his lower back at the sensation. Her breath came out in a soft gasp. And she felt him pull away and for a second there was a frown on her lips until she saw him leaning forward again. He hadn’t walked away, ended their progress. Their lips met again. The rough of his against the soft of hers was a welcomed feeling. She whimpered again, tilting her head a little more and parting her lips slightly. She moved her mouth against his, taking her time to soothe away whatever indecision and doubt that still lingered inside him. The heat in her gut almost giving way and letting her knees do the same.

The hand that was at his chest just over his heart, slowly moved up and winded around his neck as she held him close to her. Their bodies pressed together, soft and pliable against his muscled torso. She silently begged for him to keep going. She needed this. She needed him in this way. This was the most intimate feeling she had ever experienced. Terrifying and at the same time at peace, she moved her other hand up accidentally raising his shirt and touching his bare, scarred skin. It caused her to tremble even more, knowing that at any moment it could be over.

She broke the kiss this time, pulling back only a whisper as she swallowed back the overwhelming feeling that threaten to spill from her lips. She whispered, “I’ve never trusted anyone the way that I trust you. Never wanted anyone…loved anyone… Daryl, you’re my everything.” And once again, her lips fell gently onto his, peppering them with tiny kisses of promise and total adoration.


	27. Chapter 27

The tilt of her head as she seemed to rest into his touch made Daryl flinch jerking his hand somewhat away from the gesture. He hadn’t expected the warmth of her skin to feel so soft in his large mitt of a hand as he slowly brought his hand back to let her press into his palm once more. He wasn’t sure if the touch at her cheek was even warranted either, but when she hadn’t jerked her head away— he took that as a small victory, relishing in the way she didn’t recoil.

He found himself curiously observing her face for any clue that what he was doing was okay. That he wasn’t acting like a damned virginal fool, but then again he supposed that was quite obvious at the way he was overreacting to every little movement or gesture. Most of her touches had him flinching, recoiling, pulling away or a collection of all of the above in no particular order. In his mind, most touches meant something bad, despite whom it was coming from… Even from this new crop of people that had grown to acknowledge him as an equal. It would never be easy for him to simply flip that switch off as if his past didn’t dictate his future reactions. It was always at the back of his mind that these gestures were nothing more than a means of undermining his instinct to flee. To remove himself from the position of getting hurt. Of being hurt.

A selfish defense mechanism that he’d used most his life… And it had kept him alive so far.

Swallowing the thick pill of anxiety down his throat, he furrowed his brow when her hand came to rest at his neck, fingers grazing along his dirty skin. Working his jaw some, Daryl sighed heavily. This game they were playing made him weary. He was a bundle of hot nerves and any poke and prod had him over-analyzing and scrutinizing all the possible scenarios that could happen if he did this or if he said that. It was becoming tiresome and he felt like he wasn’t ready for any of this. Somehow he doubted he would ever be.

The way her hands seemed to roam over his body set him on edge, drawing him out of the depths of his mind, traveling down his neck and resting at his hip. This was all new and despite his want to curl into himself and hide, the touch was somewhat desired when he thought about the feel of her hands on him. It was soothing and settling his nerves; the tension easing away from his being. When she pressed her hand to his chest, he felt the drumming of his heart speed up incrementally. It’s loud beat echoing deftly into his ears drowning out all his rampant emotions and the dull thumping of the walkers always present at their door.

Always so fucking present and persistent. He felt his brow knit in frustration as the thought crept from the back of his mind to the forefront. He was mad that they took anything and everyone that they could get their clawed hands on. At that same token, he knew that if the outbreak hadn’t happened, Daryl never would have become the man he was now. He would have still been stuck at his dead-end job, living in the hell-hole of a mobile home at the end of the street. Still driving his shitty run-down truck with the same sullen looks from the neighbors that he was less than the dirt on their heels. He’d been watching his life pass him by for so long and now he was somewhat in control. He could dictate what happened. Daryl now held a strip of power and he didn’t know what to do with it. He still felt out of control.

When her body pressed flush against his own somewhat rigid frame, melding as one, he damned near choked on his tongue not anticipating the action, yet grateful that she had pulled her lips away from his as she had in that singular moment. His cheeks and ears were burning hot and he hoped the blush wasn’t visible in the darkness as he let out a gasp of air having forgotten to breath. Daryl was sure he would have pushed away from the wall and left her there feeling his rejection had she not broken the contact when she had. Even still his desire to run away was nagging at the back of his mind telling him to just let it go. This was simply too close for him to be completely comfortable with.

Feeling the material of his shirt slip up and her hand grazing along the scar-marred skin of his back, Daryl immediately grabbed hold of her arm, dropping it quickly from her cheek to his abdomen keeping her from touching any further. His steely gaze was held firm on hers as he watched to see her reaction, gauging whether this was on purpose or not. Even if it was, Daryl rarely allowed anyone to see the shameful marks that cascaded along his back, chest and stomach let alone even touch them. Constant reminders that he was a broken man underneath the scowl and glare.

Their noses were mere inches away from one another and their shaky breaths seemed to permeate the thick air that had settled around them. The heavy pant of his chest from the strict beat of his heart made it almost impossible for him to focus. So many funny things were fidgeting in his brain. Her words rattling alongside his doubts and own toiled emotions.

You’re my everything. She had said.

Daryl felt his brow furrow, knitting in confusion at her words still doing his best to process what she meant. He’d heard the phrase before in the movies and it always had him rolling his eyes thinking that it was just a load of horse-shit. And he’d be right if it wasn’t directed at himself in that moment. Resuming the chewing of his cheek, he turned his head away as Carol littered light chaste kisses along the corner of his mouth, his lip curling back in frustration still not understanding why it was he was fighting her the entire way.

Daryl had fought so hard for as long as he’d had to. Never had he not had his back pressed against a wall that he didn’t have to fight back on. But this? What could he do? He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew that he would even if it wasn’t intentioned. He’d end up hurting himself in the end as he knew he cared greatly for this woman curled up against him. The pang of sadness he’d felt when he thought he had truly lost her came crashing back, a ripple of sorrow racking against his chest.

Why did this have to be so fucking difficult? Why did things have to be this hard? Why couldn’t they just be as they were? As they always had been? Wasn’t that good enough? Or was it simply not enough? Had he not shown her that he could do all that he could to protect everyone? That he was worth her words of being called a “man of honor”? What more did he have to do?

Gulping the vast expanse of emotions plaguing his mind, Daryl found his hands traveling to find her shoulders, gently pulling her away from him. He felt like a genuine asshole and he knew that is what he was. “‘M sorry. I ain’t…” He paused choosing his words carefully. “Can’t be yer everythin’.” He mumbled under his breath not daring to look into her eyes as he knew what he was doing… To her… To them.

He huffed irritated that he was so flippant about everything. At first he thought he could do this. Allow himself love and accept it for what it was, but who was he kidding? Obviously it had been himself. Daryl Dixon afraid of being loved. Falling in love. Afraid of a woman. One fucking woman. He growled at the jeering in his head moving away from Carol and thrusting his boot into the stall door once more, a crack in the hinge as it sat off-kilter, broken. Just as he was.

I’m so fucked up. Bringing his hands up to the hollows of his eyes he began scrubbing furiously not sure if he should just hide in the corner of the bathroom or face her. Face the herald that he had just genuinely screwed up the best thing about him. And this time he didn’t think she would take him back.

\--//--

Carol’s arm was limp in his hand as he pulled her away from touching his back. She wanted to apologize, to say how sorry she was, and that she’d never have done that on purpose. It had been a complete accident, and she had been selfish for a moment and hadn’t stopped herself. She needed him to know she wasn’t like other women. She could never use him up or discard him. He was way too valuable to her for that. Her lips parted but the words couldn’t be found. They were lost somewhere inside, and she blamed their closeness. It had her mind running rampant and terrified that she’d lose him now because she’d been too bold. She had played hard and loose maybe in his eyes, and she didn’t want him to pull away. Her eyes searched his for a long moment before she managed to squeak, “I’m sorry…”

His hand had fallen from her cheek as well, resting at her hip. His bare skin against her own, caused a flush of heat to rise quick and fast within her, making her almost dizzy. Her other hand still hung loosely around his neck, touseling the long hair she found there.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he spoke. He couldn’t be her everything. Her heart was breaking now, knowing she hadn’t shown him enough. Maybe she’d rushed this. Maybe this was what she deserved after everything. He’d come to bring her home. He hadn’t ask for anything more. Maybe he wasn’t ready? Maybe she wasn’t the right girl for him. And who was she kidding? She was a broken down woman who had to claw her way out of despair and everyone elses shadows. She swallowed thickly, almost choking on the well of emotions that seemed to rise hot and thick in her throat.

His hands were pushing her away. They halted the kisses, the touches, the progress. And she let him. She couldn’t fight him. She didn’t have it in her this time. Her arms fell gently to her sides, almost defeated. And she had never felt more alone than right then as he pulled away from her completely. She leaned her head back against the wall, biting her tongue and promising herself she wouldn’t cry. She looked up at the cieling, silently begging for this all to just have been a dream. She knew that in the cold light of day, everything between them would never be the same. And all because she had pressed an issue that shouldn’t have been pressed. She’d fucked this all up, taken more rope than he’d given her freely.

Then she heard his boot connect with the door again, loosening it from his hinges. And she visibly flenched, not expecting this now. She moved her arms up and around herself protectively. She blinked quickly as a few tears fell down her dirtied cheeks anyway. Her lips quivered. Words died in her throat. How could she reassure him this was okay when she felt herself falling apart before his very eyes. 

"You don’t get a choice," she spoke soft and clear and just loud enough that she knew her words fell upon his ears. "Don’t make it any less so because you don’t want it. Don’t want me…" She shrugged. She guessed it was something she would live with or die trying. 

She moved back to where her pack lay forgotten on the ground against the adjacent wall. She stooped to pick it up. She needed something cleaner than her shirt to wipe her eyes on. She refused to fall apart here with him to watch the show. He didn’t get those vulnerable parts of her. Not anymore. She couldn’t stop the half sob that seemed to rip through her chest. She shoved her fist into her mouth, angry that she had shown weakness. She dropped the pack and smacked her hand palm flat against the concrete wall. 

She’d been around him too long. His bad habits were hiding just below her surface and try as she might, she found herself falling apart. She kept her hand there, against the wall even though it stung worse than anything she’d ever done in a fit of rage. She refused to let him see she had possibly hurt herself. He lowered her forehead to the wall, taking several deep breaths.


	28. Chapter 28

Panting from the immense force he had put into his kick, Daryl was bent over somewhat, forehead pressed against the wall trying to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Carol visibly slouching against the wall pulling her pack close to her. He felt the muscle around his heart tighten when he saw her wrap her arms around her body to protect herself. The look on her face had him wanting to slink into the darkest parts of the bathroom so he couldn’t be seen— ashamed of his display of anger again.

The clenching feeling caused a sharp pain to run through his chest and he felt his hand pawing where he thought he’d felt the jolt shoot through him. She was cowering because of his selfish reaction. Drawing into herself because she was afraid of him— afraid that he would direct his anger at her. Daryl had never known her to be afraid of him and it hurt him more than he could possibly fathom the pain ever being… Almost nauseating to be literal. Never had he ever wanted Carol to be afraid or fear him the way she was cowering now. He wasn’t his Daddy. He’d made sure that he didn’t follow in his footsteps always being aware of whom his anger was keened at. Apparently he really was like his Daddy in the end despite his best efforts. Everything in vain.

He had never wanted to hurt her as he had but he did and there was no taking it back or getting a second-chance. This was it. He supposed this was the part where they were supposed to let go. Let it die. He hoped he hadn’t fallen in love because of the pain involved— on both sides, but that wasn’t so easily done as he had believed. He thought he was strong enough to deny himself some slice of happiness but he wasn’t. Just as weak as he always was.

You don’t want me…

Angling his head so he could somewhat catch a glimpse of Carol without being ostensibly obvious with his staring, Daryl saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and the sheer sadness that was evident in her eyes. He grit his teeth knowing her crying was because he didn’t know how to deal with any of this. He’d broken her heart and he wasn’t even man enough to pick up the pieces. He felt his fists balling at his sides, nails digging half-moons into the calloused skin of his palms. That wasn’t even it.

Why couldn’t he simply just live with the love she was giving him? What was so hard about it? If he was being honest with himself, he’d known for a while that he loved Carol. He just wasn’t sure if he could will himself to let anything happen. He just never let her know. And instead, he had lashed out repeatedly digging his grave to keep her at bay, but that hadn’t worked and here they were. Both torn asunder and a damn mess.

Working his jaw as he mulled over his own thoughts, he finally found his voice small and gravelly albeit there. “It ain’t like that. Ain’t anythin’ ya did. It’s all me. Always was. I ain’t worth yer time. ‘M only gon’ disappoint ya.” He confessed still not completely looking back at her. Truer words had never been spoken in his life. And the more he let linger his admonitions the more he felt like a complete failure.

The shame of having rescinded her love was still fresh and Daryl didn’t want to look at her. He couldn’t dare himself to fully look upon her face. He was well aware of how bad she was hurting from the way she curled into herself trying to fight back her sobs. Daryl didn’t think she’d allow him that leeway to see that side of her anymore. The way she turned away, hiding her face from him— he’d gone and fucked up.

When the clapping sound echoed loud in the small space catching him off guard, Daryl’s eyes shifted towards where it had been emitted. He could see Carol mimicking the same position he had currently been in. Forehead pressed against the cool of the wall, hand planted flat against the surface. The sound had been loud and he was sure it had hurt like a bitch.

"You alright?" He growled turning slightly somewhat from his place against the wall. Stuffing his fist back into his pocket, he thumbed the jasper stone around trying to find his center. Her words were still stuck in his head.

You don’t get a choice.

"What choice did I have? Huh? Ya seem t’think this was all on purpose. That it was my fault fer feelin’ the way I do. Hmph." He groused not even stopping himself from thinking aloud turning more so now he was looking at Carol. "What more d’ya want from me? I ain’t the good guy."

\--//--

She remained quiet. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut at this point. The pain of her heart breaking was making her weak, making her almost beg, but she couldn’t do that to him. She wouldn’t put him in the position to outright deny her what she so desperately wanted. Her hand slid down the wall, and she turned around, pushing back against the wall for fear that she’d fall apart and sink to the floor if it wasn’t there to catch her. She shook her head. “When you going to learn that nothing you’ve ever done has disappointed me? When are you going to let me decide if you’re worth my time or not? Daryl, I’m not some fragile chinadoll that needs to be kept on a shelf away from your touch.”

Hadn’t she proved that to him? Hadn’t she proved that to all of them? She’d clawed and fought her way into that cell down in the tombs. She hadn’t given up hope that maybe by some damn chance that she was going to survive certain death. And hadn’t she? And he’d found her, taken her back to the others. She’d lived to fight another day. And every day since then, she’d set about to show the world that she could make it. That she was a survivor. But it was him that she needed to see that side of her. Did he think she was weak? Or unworthy of his love? Of his touch?

She closed her eyes for a moment and remembered the feel of his fingertips as they’d danced across her cheekbone. It gave her a shiver and she let out a soft whimper. It was only moments before, and it felt like a lifetime ago. How she ached to have his hand on her again. Even if it wasn’t but a simple touch. She swallowed hard, eyes flying open as she thought of how he must see her. She was a damn fool for thinking that Daryl Dixon could ever have eyes for her. And tonight, she’d have it out of him one way or another.

"Not the good guy?" She snorted, using his own favorite right back at him. "Pfft." She rolled her eyes in quite the way that he’d shown her and the others over the course of the last eighteen months together. "Bullshit."

She angrily wiped at the tears on her face with her fingers. She stamped her foot, impatience and stubborness meeting head on. She moved toward him, shaking her finger at him. “For one, you could stop being a goddamn coward, Daryl Dixon.” Her hand then flew to her lips, completely taken aback at her own behavior, but she’d done it. She’d said the words and to hell if she was going to hide from them now. She moved her hand slowly down her mouth and from her face and shook her head.

"Say you don’t love me. Say it, and we’ll never speak of this again." She felt the pain as it trickled from her palm and through her wrist and up her elbow. This was all going to hurt in the morning, but it would be worth it, she supposed, but only if she got answers. Her eyes were locked on him, taking in every inch of him that she could without having to move her head. "Say it and this is over. One way or the other…"


	29. Chapter 29

Daryl flinched at her words. Coward. He felt his lip curl up into a snarl as he felt the heat rise from his neck and into his cheeks. Turning on his heel in one fluid motion, he glared harshly at her. He could feel his anger burning through him again. Taking several steps forward, he got close not caring how far into her space he was. Physical proximity had no bearing on what was going to tumble out of his mouth. Those were fighting words she was using and he wasn’t just going to let them go so easily— let Carol think she could just talk to him like she was. If she wanted to sling around insults— well he could do it too and match her move for move.

"What d’you know ‘bout me? Huh? This ain’t fuckin’ easy." He growled low, both clenched fists having dropped to his side. The jasper stone was forgotten in the depths of his pocket and in that moment he didn’t care about it. There would be no comfort sought from it anymore. All of the solace he had found in it was wasted on all the prior events that had been building up to this. His patience had been tested and this was the result. Carol wanted to point fingers… Fine.

He absently shook his head walking away before whirling around again. Words were threatening to bubble forth from his lips, but he shut his mouth holding back. In spite of how angry he was, Daryl knew he couldn’t just babble on without thinking… Just talking aimlessly for the sake of filling space between them. As much as he wanted to just rant, he didn’t want to completely destroy his relationship with Carol. They’d struggled with it for so long, building its fragile foundation for god knows how long and it would topple with just one uninterred statement. Their tempers could flare and would all the while, but why destroy something all because of the misconstrue of feelings they had?

He wagged his finger at her, impeding the proximity bubble he had been so desperate to remove himself from earlier. “Y’dont know shit ‘bout what I’ve dealt with.” He hissed eyes grazing her features, studying every flinch and eye twitch for some sort of mild reaction to what he was saying. “You wanna talk ‘bout cowards… Callin’ that kettle fuckin’ black. Stayed with yer shitty husband for all them years… And the only way y’got out was ‘cause he was killed. Weren’t even woman ‘nough to take charge o’ yer own life.”

Narrowed steely gaze held fast on her as he scowled at the statement knowing that he was digging his claws deep into her. He knew he was hurting her but hadn’t that what they’d been doing to each other all night? Toying with one another’s emotions? Seeing how much give the other had to offer before they pulled back?

When Carol called him out on how he felt, the breath caught in his throat and he froze. Tilting his head to look back at her, he scoffed realizing what was going on. Something sparked inside himself and he felt bold. Swallowing hard, Daryl took another foot forward. “Yer just out t’make yerself the victim. Nope. I ain’t gon’ give ya that satisfaction. Y’want me t’tell ya I don’t give a shit ‘bout you or yer feelings…” He drawled harrumphing when he started to really think more about everything. “Tough shit. And if it takes me to fuckin’ say somethin’ ‘cause yer too chicken shit t’do it. Fine!” He barked getting right in her face, her soft shuddered breaths warm against his lips.

Brows knit in frustration, anger, and every other mixed emotion he was feeling at the moment, Daryl took another steady step forward feeling the rush of adrenaline pump through his veins. That step was his final straw. There was no space between them at that point and he didn’t care. She wanted to know where he stood. Fine. He’d tell her and he wasn’t going to be nice about it neither.

"I fuckin’ care more ‘bout you than ya think I do. I went out lookin’ fer yer little girl and I didn’t evenknow you— hell I fuckin’ took an arrow and a bullet in the process. Frankly I didn’t give a shit ‘bout this fuckin’ group o’ people… ‘Till you…” He growled letting his words hang in the air.

The air was thick and stilled around them like a heavy blanket, almost suffocating to a degree. Daryl had said more in that one burst of breath than the entire duration he had been with these people. “And if ya wanna think I don’t… Fine. Let the fuckin’ horse die then. Fightin’ ‘cause no one else will. ‘Cause I ain’t got no one else. I don’t.” He admitted roughly, eyes drawn down in wrinkled anger, scowl still plastered on his face.

If she bothered with him after this outburst, he’d be damned surprised. Anyone else would have likely stormed off in a huff, but he waited patiently on her reaction. This was his test. She’d been trying with him this entire time. Well here was her chance: prove him wrong otherwise.

\--//--

Carol knew a lot about him. Or she wanted to feel that she did. He had quickly and easily become her best friend. At the end of the word who would have thought the mouse would be loyal to the redneck? Or the other way around? She kept her mouth shut, lips taut, and let his anger leech onto her. She could take it. All of it because they were just angry words. He didn’t mean them. That much she knew. This was all he knew, and it was still a struggle for him. And she had known that. She had been banking on that. Because in the end that was the fire she needed to get at the truth.

Only difference between right now and back at the farm was he’d just unleashed all of the ugly with no hint of holding back and thinking about his words. In this moment, she saw him wrestle to keep their friendship in tact when all was said and done. And that’s the man he’d become. He wasn’t perfect, but who was? Who had ever been? And that’s how she knew she could shoulder it. That’s how she knew she would. He was worth every ounce of anger, every second of self doubt. She’d been honest with him and herself moments before when she told him he was her everything. She loved him. There was no denying that.

He was nothing at all like Ed. Ed didn’t care if his words hurt or his fists. When he wanted something, it got done. Truth was she had been terrified of him for so long by the time the walkers started roaming the earth, she didn’t know anything else existed. She’d had no relationship to base her own on. She had known it was wrong, but she just knew she hadn’t wanted to be alone. And yes, that made her the biggest coward of all. She lowered her eyes, ashamed of that fact alone. She could have made a life for herself and Sophia. She should have left Ed long ago, but she hadn’t. And that was the life she couldn’t hide from, but at the same time, she couldn’t change a damn thing.

Her hands went to her face, holding it for a few seconds, not fighting the tears now. She rubbed her face gently, trying to wash away all self loathing, but it was deep in her skin and would take more than her own hands to scrub it loose. She dropped her hands at his accusation that she was playing the victim. Her eyes searched his face as her own insecurities were front and center. He was in her space now and she was speechless. Her breath came in stunted wisps, and she knew she didn’t have much left in her. Her shoulders sagged a little, hands in tight balls at her sides. His gaze was so intense that it was her that looked away, so ashamed at letting all this come to pass between them. Her mouth was dry and the room was suddenly smaller, and she felt she couldn’t breathe. 

Her hand came up, resting on his bicep. It wasn’t curled in anger, but simply at rest there to keep her steady and grounded. To know that no matter what else was spoken here tonight, she had him in some way. Her eyes moved back to his as he talked of his search for Sophia. His own struggles with finding her girl, not giving up on her. And then his revelation that it was Carol’s persistence that kept him with their group. She took a shaky breath then, tears drying on her face.

"I don’t want nobody else," she whispered. Her voice cracked with emotion. "Don’t need nobody else, Daryl…" Her hand moved up his bicep, slow and steady. It was against his neck, holding him in place but then again, it wasn’t. She wouldn’t force him into anything. Neither of their backs were to a wall. They stood there face to face with all of it laid bare. "Can’t lose you too." Her voice was stronger now. It carried her emotions softly to his ears to linger between them. 

"I won’t give up on you. I know that’s what you’re the most afraid of, sweetheart…" She almost wanted to pull that slip of the tongue back inside, hide it away, but it was too late. Her eyes didn’t waver nor did they turn away from him. "I see it every time someone new tries to get close. You prickle, building up those walls a little higher. I know you’ve been hurt. And the worst kind of hurt…"

"Those scars on your back? On your body…" She tilted her head a little, softening her stance to press into his space. "They don’t make you the man you are, the man I see every single time I look at you. You just gotta trust me…to do what’s right, what’s good for you. To you…" She trailed off, letting her thumb caress his jaw line tenderly.


	30. Chapter 30

There was a pause from his rant where Daryl didn’t say anything. He just glowered at her with an unperturbed gaze listening to her speak. The brush of her hand at his arm slowly bringing him back, easing him out of that dark place in his mind that he sometimes crawled into. Her words slowly filling in the holes in his temper. The caress of her hand at his cheek— a welcoming feel. There was no flinching as she continued with the ministration and no outright refusal that the gesture was undesired either. He quietly accepted the touch.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he shut his eyes momentarily reflecting on all that had transpired between them. He hated how incredibly flippant he was. One moment he was calm and collected the next he could be a torrent of unbridled anger and mixed emotions. Daryl had said some nasty things to her doing his best to verbally hurt her, but found that incredibly difficult to do so even intentioned as it had been. It was never something he wanted to go out of his way to do. Crossing the line as he had, Daryl wanted to say them if she couldn’t— didn’t want to as one of them had to. There would be no more pussy-footing around the issue anymore. He’d fight with her if he had to.

He’d confessed that without Carol, he had no real merit amongst the others— that there had been no reason in continuing forth with them had it not been for her. Without her, he wasn’t anything. He’d likely still be out there alone trying to survive and in a spinning rage. Hell, for all he knew, he could have already been dead in spite of what everyone thought of him being: a capable hunter and tracker. Just because he was didn’t mean it would be at all possible to survive as long. He was only a single man. No one could do it alone anymore.

There were those words again. Can’t lose you too. They echoed loud in his ears— same choked note. The muscle in his jaw stiffened and his lips pursed at the reminiscence that reverberated through the room. Of course it had been under far less appealing circumstances, but a scenario of similar events. Back then, Daryl didn’t understand what she had meant. They’d only talked a small handful of times before that and to him it was just words rolling off his back. Reckoned it was Carol wanting him as her anchor since she didn’t have nobody then. Neither of them did. However, the statement held more water this time around. More was at stake than just losing a valuable ally. No— they were more than that now.

When she confirmed what he had been so unsure of, he felt a small weight lifted from off his shoulders. The tightness that had settled around his heart, lessened from out of his chest and he felt his breaths become regulated… Steady. His breathing had been somewhat hindered by the tautness of muscle constricting itself around his heart and lungs. A manifestation of his tumultuous tangle of emotions. The breath that had been stuck in his throat was let loose and it’s rapid beat came to a slow.

Grinding his teeth a little, jaw working itself back and forth as he contemplated her words, Daryl met her eyes, his steel on her pale blues. She was being completely honest as she always was. That glint in her eye; flicker of hope was what held him fast in the present. Her walls had been torn down a long time ago and she was letting him pass unscathed.

At the mention of his scars, he stood rigid swallowing the thick spit in his mouth. Her constant reminder of the scars adorned along his body were not warranted but he supposed he deserved it. Daryl had drilled into her pretty harshly and he could stand to deal with a singular comment of the abuse he had suffered for years.

Knitting his brows in a piqued curiosity, eyes drawn away from her face, Daryl finally found his voice— speaking up. “Then what kinda man am I?” He croaked out in a gravelly tone, hands still balled into fists at his sides. He felt his grip loosen and his fingers begin to fidget unsure of what he wanted to do with them.

He was enticed to want to touch Carol but refrained as he didn’t know what he was doing or why he felt a sudden need to want to touch her. Perhaps it was because of his bold words and that final step that had sent his worries floundering in the dark. Perhaps it was because of the things that they could hide from one another in the dark that he felt that compulsion to let linger his hand at her cheek as he had earlier. The warmth of her skin at his fingertips.

What did he know anyhow? He’d never had a woman like this before. Tender touches and gentle words. It was all too foreign and unfamiliar.

Taking another step forward he backed Carol back into the wall again finding his hand pressed flat against the cool cement surface once more. “If yer makin’ yer choices alone… How can I trust ya?” He asked feeling like the question begged to be asked. It would be when they returned home. “‘Cause I ain’t never done what y’did. What makes y’think I can trust ya? Carol?” Punctuating the end of his sentence with her name. He had to get her attention. Make her listen to him. This one thing still bothered him and it had to be addressed. He wanted this ease of mind. Not for himself. For the both of them.

\--//--

She tilted her head slightly. Eyes forever searching his as she did so. Her lips parted more, sucking in a quick breath, letting it fill her lungs, and slowly releasing it. “A man of honor. A man to be trusted to do the right thing above all else. A man that puts the person first regardless of indiscretions…” Her hand had turned then, running her knuckles along his cheek bone, then turn again to rub along his jaw and feel his scruff against them. It sent shivers up and down her very spine. She remembered how they tickled her face when she kissed him. Her other hand curled into a ball and released over and over, desperate to put her hands on him. Yet, she didn’t want to overwhelm him. 

He was in her space. Her mind was dizzy and starting to get fuzzy as the smell of him hit her nose and caused her eyes to close slowly at the feel of him. Then she was being pushed back a step or two, back flush against the wall. This time her first instinct was to accept whatever actions that he would throw her way, but his lips didn’t press against her. He didn’t touch her in any way other than the slight brush of his chest against her. She was painfully aware of his arm close to her. She ached to pushed into him, force contact and reaction, but his words stilled whatever movement she’d been about to take.

Her eyes, now open, lifting up and locking on his. Trust. That’s what this all boiled down to. And she knew she deserved it. She’d made choices for the whole group. Choices and actions that while they could be forgiven, could be learned from, they could never be erased. She swallowed hard, feeling the lump stay in its place in her throat, making speech impossible. She tried again. “It’s me, Daryl…” 

She moved the hand from his cheek down to lay over his heart, thumb making slow circles against it. “I can’t take back what I did. I’ll never be able to make it right…” She lowered her eyes to rest on her hand at his chest, then slowly moved them back up and whispered, “but I made a mistake. I was wrong to do what I did. They didn’t deserve that. Not from me. Not from anybody.” She let the weight of that settle in her own gut for a few painful moments as the memory of her actions replayed in her head.

"I’ll never do that again. Take on something bigger than me, bigger than all of us…" Tears filled her eyes and one slid down her cheek. "I don’t expect you to trust me, Daryl. You know I don’t, but all I got is my word that you won’t have to worry about this ever again. I’m not the woman I was two days ago. I won’t ever be her again." Her hand shook slightly, wishing for that stone he’d so adamantly been holding and stroking so she could be calm, so she could feel like she wasn’t too lost.

"I won’t ever do anything to hurt us, our group…ever again." The last words were rushed. She felt as if she would explode if she didn’t get them out of her throat. She looked to him. The anxiety slipped and slid up her spine, boiled in her gut, and hung there waiting for his reaction, his punishment for her crimes


	31. Chapter 31

"I know it’s you, but that weren’t you." He replied roughly shaking his head at her meek statement. Daryl was still curious as to how she had had it in her to do such a thing. He supposed if it was for the group that she could have easily done it. Hell, he had tried killing Jim when they’d found out he had been bit and several times he had come close to doing so. Granted, it was out of his own selfish indignance that he had tried to remove the threat, not because it was for the others. At the time he couldn’t give two shits about them after what they had done to Merle. No tolerance for walkers. And there hadn’t been any tolerance of it thereafter.

Daryl frowned at her as she began crying, chewing the inside of his cheek in slight anxiety. He disliked seeing people cry. He never knew what to do or really how to comfort them. In the past few years he’d found himself crying and it made him feel so weak. Dixons didn’t cry. Weren’t supposed to. He’d gotten smacked around by his Daddy as a kid when he did and it toughened him up to keep from doing so. The scar across his chest was proof enough of that. In spite of that kind of conditioning, Daryl had cried. All the times he had… Had been for Merle, but that didn’t matter now.

Without hesitation, he brought his hand up that wasn’t pressed against the wall and began thumbing away her tears with the rough pads of his fingers. “Stop cryin’ yer eyes out. Ain’t done no one a bit o’ good.” He growled softly, his brows furrowed in a confused wonderment at how her eyes shone so bright when she cried. There was a sparkled glint and the blues of her eyes seemed to glow with what little flicker of light caught on them.

"Remember, jus’ a waste o’ time all this hopin’ an’ prayin’." He chuckled a little to himself at the statement. “‘Sides…" He paused ducking down a little using the light to see if he had gotten rid of all her tears, carefully taking her chin in his hand and gently turning her face back and forth. "I know yer sorry. Y’wouldnt be like this if y’weren’t." He replied removing the last streak that ran the gamut of her cheek with his thumb wiping the wetness on the thighs of his pants.

When he realized what he’d been doing, Daryl quickly deflated and slunk down some, embarrassed by his fussing. His cheeks burned a crimson red and the slight tug of crooked crept faintly at the corners of his lips. It was very mother-hen of him and he wasn’t quite sure if that was something he quite enjoyed. It made him feel very soft and gentle and he was very aware that he could be those things, but it was few and far between for such naturalism. He gulped the uneasiness of it down before removing his hand from her cheek.

"Y’don’t have ta convince me none ‘bout all this. It’s gotta be the others." He replied clicking his tongue on the back of his teeth as he shrugged his shoulders knowing that Rick hadn’t believed Carol was empathetic towards the loss of life that had been taken. It would be a stretch for the others to hold trust with her after this but it didn’t matter to him. Daryl would do his best to protect her as he always did. It was their code and he would stick to it.

Stepping away from where he had her pinned to the wall, gently touching at her arm he tried getting her attention. “Buck up. We’ll get it all settled.” He drawled in reassurance offering the small curl of the corners of his lips in a faint smile. Daryl was sure she couldn’t see from the dark and how little the smile would be visible but that was fine with him. He knew he was offering it to her and that to him was all that mattered.

\--//--

Carol’s heart hammered louder and faster in her chest as his thumb slid across her face, wiping away her tears gently as he could. She felt her gut fill with heat and longing to be held and comforted by him. But she remained rooted to the spot, unable to show him what she really needed from him for fear of another rejection. Her eyes instead stayed locked on him as he spoke. He gently checked her for more tears, and she wanted to smile at how far he’d come, but there was still a serious matter at hand.

She was sorry. His fingers fell from her face then. She took a shaky breath and uttered softly, “Thank you.” Her voice was raw with emotion. Her lips quivered some and exhaustion set in. Her body relaxed against the wall. “It wasn’t because I didn’t care about them. Daryl, I need you to know that. Don’t care what the others think of me. Just you…” Her hands were hung loosely at her side. "When they died and no one was there? We’d have D block all over again." Her voice was steadier now. "That’s all I knew." She swallowed back her emotions, sliding on a mask to get her through the rest of the night. 

When he seemed to slink back and put a bit of distance between them, she watched with her breath held. She was just glad they weren’t fighting anymore. Trading insults with him had been worse than any slap or hit Ed had ever given her. She swallowed back the lump as it formed in her throat. She raised her hand and let it rest gently to cup his elbow and gave it a squeeze.

"I can handle the others, Daryl. I’m not proud of what I did. I don’t like what I did, but I won’t hide from it either." She felt her voice was more confident than she truly was, but it needed to be done. She wouldn’t have him ostracized with her because he felt he owed it to her to protect her. "Let me handle them, okay?" She dropped her hand, glancing around and giving a soft sigh. 

"One of us should sleep. Then we switch. We’ll need the rest whatever little bit we can get. Hopefully, we’ll make it back to the bike, and then get the hell out of here come morning." She sighed again, not liking the idea of being in this tiny box of a room, but she’d suck it up and be strong for him. 

"You got watch first?" Her body shifted toward him, brushing against him, and if she was honest with herself, it had been on purpose. It had been for her own peace of mind. She just needed him close. She ached to hug him, feel his body pressed to hers. Because when the day dawned and whether they wanted it or not, they were going to emerge two very different people. She had never wanted the darkness to linger more than in this moment. At least here, they knew where they stood with one another. Or she hoped she did.


	32. Chapter 32

He nodded absently not sure if she saw his agreement in the dark. His eyes could see most everything having adjusted to the dim, but even subtle things like that were lost due to the engulfing darkness and what little light filtered through the vents up near the roof. He’d take first watch and when it came time for him to sleep he’d wake her and hopefully at that point, morning will have come and they could get going. They could return to the comfort of the prison walls and everything will be settled in due time.

That was the plan… he hoped.

A concern was dealing with the walkers outside their door. There was really no knowing how many were out there waiting to get in. For all he knew an entire herd could be milling about outside and they would never know. He could see up along the wall where the stall walls were bolted into that there was a gap large enough for him to sidle over into the next set of bathroom stalls delegated to the men. If he could manage to get over through the gap and likely deal with whatever threat was abound he could easily sneak out and deal with whatever amount of walkers were out there. Again, Daryl nodded to himself noting the plan of action for the morning. He would run it by Carol when he got up after sleeping on it for the few hours he would have. No need to worry her over something so trivial at the moment.

Tonight had been trying and worrisome for the both of them. It was unwarranted but also very necessary that they had gotten these things off their chests. All these pent up emotions had been a long time coming and it was better now than later. No knowing if there could have been another time with the sickness running rampant. Either of them could easily be taken by it— there was no real clue as to how it spread or how contagious it was.

When Carol brushed past him he stiffened slightly not expecting he close proximity. He felt his cheeks get hot and he silently gulped not sure why this had him flustered somewhat. Working his jaw into slowly wedging the inside of his cheek between his teeth, he felt the dip of his gut and a soft flutter in his belly causing a ruckus of wavering emotions. His heart sped up slightly but slowed when the contact ended.

Shaking himself out of his rigid state, he coughed to try and clear his throat but didn’t say anything. Making his way over to where his crossbow lay abandoned on the ground, he stooped down to pick it up and his quiver that he’d carelessly chucked into the bathroom. In their haste, Daryl had just thrown everything inside and slammed the door shut to lock it once all of their limbs were inside. He eyed his quiver noticing the poncho-fashioned horse blanket he had stuffed inside along with his set of arrows. Pulling it out of the quiver, he slung the strap over his shoulder and offered the blanket out to Carol.

"Here." He gruffed, giving the blanket a shake indicating he wanted her to take it.

\--//--

Carol gently took to poncho from him, their fingers brushed slightly as she did. It sent a jolt up and down her spine, causing her to shiver in spite of the heat. Her eyes snapped up as a blush colored her cheeks. “Thanks.” She pulled it close to her, wrapping her arms around it. 

She turned, looking for the right place to bed down. She settled for a space more toward the corner of the room away from the door. Now that they were quiet, the moans and shuffling were louder. Her heart beat seemed to thud inside her head, making it seem louder than it actually was. 

Then she remembered his hand. “Should still let me bandage that hand…” Her voice was soft, more so than usual. She wanted nothing more than to take care of him. “Even found some antibiotic ointment. Rick left me with some of it…” She remembered the tube that was shoved into the smaller pocket on the front of the pack. 

She continued to make her bed on the floor, shifting her eyes to where he stood. She waited to sit down until she’d heard his final say about his hand. Her own throbbed slightly, sore from wrist to elbow, but she ignored it. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. It was self inflicted and well deserved. 

"It’s going to be almost impossible to sleep here…" Her lips were dry now, so she wet them with her tongue. Her voice seemed strangled and distant now. She supposed she should be used to the sounds the walkers made at this point. They’d been doing this for well over eighteen months now. But she never got used to them. She knew she never would. If you got comfortable, you got sloppy. That would cost you your very life.

She was painfully aware of how close they were still standing. She wanted nothing more than to have him that close always. She kept her mouth closed now, waiting for him to either brush her off or allow her to play nurse. “Won’t take but a minute…” She narrowed her eyes as she looked for the fallen strip of material she had ripped off her shirt.


	33. Chapter 33

Lost in his own collective thoughts, Daryl had to shake himself out of his own reverie before tilting his head at Carol, dry swallowing the bite in his voice having not been paying much attention to what she had been saying. He was quietly going over how he could manage squeezing through the gap above the stalls that led to the men’s section of the bathroom and dealing with any present threat that lurked within. It was a nagging at the back of his mind that they may not get out of there alive if what he thought was likely waiting outside their door was actually there. He didn’t voice this concern as he didn’t want to frighten Carol and get her worked up as if this entire mess was her fault.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault from what he could reason, but he was sure if he had asked her, Carol would have gladly volunteered herself as she being the cause of all this mess. Daryl didn’t need that kind of unnecessary fussing if he could help it. He wanted to desperately just get through the night in one piece and no more arguments about this or that— last thing on his mind. He wanted the tension in the air gone and the knotting in his stomach eased as all this was causing him unneeded stress at the moment. A cloud of judgment on his part which could end poorly if he wasn’t in a clear mindset.

"Hmm?" He gruffed drawing a brow up in piqued curiosity when she gestured for his hand, blood having congealed in the serrated cuts from the glass. A light sting jolted through his hand, tickling with prickles along his forearm up when he clenched his hand into a loose fist. He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck with his non-injured hand not quite clear if any kind of ointment would help the cuts which he neither cared about. It didn’t hurt enough so it was of no bother to him. But, he supposed, if it would ease her worry over him and allow him some respite while she slept, he would gladly let it go and let Carol tend to his bloody fist as she so pleased.

Eying her warily through the dim of the little moonlight that trickled in through the vent rafters, Daryl took a hesitant step forward, hand outstretched, palm down so his cuts were somewhat visible to her. “Go ‘head.” He drawled folding his other arm across his chest, dipping his hip as he settled his weight onto one leg as he stood somewhat lax in his stance awaiting Carol to tend to his wounds.

\--//-- 

Carol knew he was lost in thought, and it worried her slightly. But she pushed it away. His mind was always working, and when the time was right, he would share his thoughts with her. That was something she would never push him on. No matter what other issues were at hand.

She managed to find the scrap of fabric on the floor beside his feet and held it loosely between her fingers. She breathed a sigh of relief when he agreed to let her take care of his knuckles. “I know it won’t do much for the pain, but it might keep the infection at a minimum.” And with medical care as it was now, preventative medicine was the best kind of safe medicine.

"Just let me get my stuff…" She knelt down, putting his poncho beside the pack and rummaged around until she found the ointment, pulling it free from the pack. She wrapped her fingers around it. "All I have to clean it with is this wintergreen astringment. Means it’s gonna sting." She pushed herself back up onto her feet and tilted her head a bit.

She moved toward him, setting her stuff down in the sink that didn’t hold the shattered faux glass and cleared her throat. “We’ll have to do this more from touch than sight. So if something doesn’t feel right, you let me know.” She reached for his hand when he got within reach, moving to unscrew the cap of the astringent and held his hand loosely, not wanting him to flinch and make it worse. It would no doubt hurt like a bitch.

"Ready?" she asked, not wanting to throw any surprise his way. Her fingertips lay just under his palm, remaining still, but it still felt good to be connected to him by touch again. It was the little things that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard and took a step toward him.


	34. Chapter 34

Daryl listened to her talk as he moved toward the sink basin that was littered with the faux glass shards, leaning his back against the cool of the rim basin. Sighing heavily, he could feel the weariness settle in his bones and the tired from lack of sleep the past few days begin to bare down on him. He held out his hand so she could mend it as she saw fit neither caring what she did to remedy the spread of infection if there was one. It still didn’t matter much to him if it was tended to or not. Wound would heal over time. He’d dealt with far worse at the hands of his Daddy. Scars along his chest and back were proof of that as he could do nothing to really care for them as a youngster. He reckoned they were more like battle scars.

He had to stifle the scoff that he wanted to let fall from his lips. He didn’t want to count his lucky stars and say he was immune to just about everything. He rarely ever fell ill having never had a flu shot neither. While all his coworkers got sick and threw their shifts his way, Daryl found it all highly amusing. In fear of jinxing himself, Daryl didn’t say anything about his resistive immune system due to the lack of medical supplies and hospitals in this new world. Anything went. He never thought he’d see dead people walking around and here they were banging down their door. He could now fall prey to this new virus that was going around the prison.

When she took his hand in hers, Daryl turned his head slightly to try and gauge what she was going to do despite the dark that engulfed most of the innards of the bathroom. Only a few flickers of light seemed to trickle in through the vent at the arch of the rooftop. Her hand was warm, soft even, in his own rough one as she held it over the sink. He grunted in approval at the acknowledgment of the astringent likely stinging. “Don’t matter none. Ain’t like I’ve ne’er had worse.” He drawled scratching at the scruff of his throat waiting on her to pour the disinfectant over the serrated skin.

"On yer move." He replied returning his arm to fold across his chest, hand tucked just below his armpit. Daryl’s hawklike gaze narrowed into a squint as he tried to get a focus on the bottle he presumed was in hand and his wounded hand.

\--//-- 

Carol tipped the almost full bottle to the side. The strong smell of wintergreen hit her nose, and she had to hold back a sigh of absolute disgust. The smell brought back so many memories of her past life, and she wasn’t ready to go there. If they’d had water, she’d have just used that. She heard it splashing against his hand and then the remainder trickled down the sink into the empty pipes below with lonely echoes. She heard the slight hiss of his breath and felt the slight tug of his hand. She curled her fingers slightly about his wrist to keep him in place.

Her eyes shown then. A shy smile graced her lips, and she teased softly, “Now don’t be a baby. You’re tough as nail, remember?” She gave a soft chuckle, keeping her voice low because the clawing and snarling had seemed to lesson in the past few minutes as they had remained quiet. She made sure to get every last knuckle before sitting the bottle aside and reaching for the antibiotic ointment.

She was a master of doing things one handed so she unscrewed the lid and placed it on the sink rim as she very gently squeezed the tub allowing a copious amount to find the cuts and scrapes on his knuckles. Only two of them were busted open wide. The others were still cut up, but the damage seemed to be minimal. Setting the tub aside when she finished, she reached for the strip of cloth and slipped it under his hand and made the best work at making it into a bandage that she could and tied it on the top so he’d still have full use of his hand.

"How’s that?" She had his hand in both of hers now, inspecting her handy work with her eyes and with her fingers. "Not too tight, right?" Carol turned his hand over, gently inspecting the underneath of the bandage and moved her fingers from his palm to slowly up his wrist, checking for swelling. She found everything else in working order.

She leaned forward, lifting his hand slightly and pressed her lips softly to his pulse point and whispered, “All better.”


	35. Chapter 35

The pungent smell of acrid wintergreen filled his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose in contempt— far worse smells seemed better at that moment. The liquid sloshed in the bottle before it was poured over his wounds. It burned and he tried pulling his hand away. Low growl deep in his throat trying to contain the cry of pain as he winced.

He bit the inside of his cheek as it stung deep in the ripped pieces of flesh. Daryl hadn’t lied about having dealt with far worse. Arrow to the side seemed to be top on his list. This just stung like a bitch because of how deep the shards had tore at his hand. The pipes groaned as the astringent wound it’s way through the sewer system and forever gone to where it was the pipes led.

She teased him lightly. Scoffing, Daryl knew it was to make light of his previous outburst. “I ain’t tough like Merle. Bastard could damned near get hit by a train and walk ‘way fine.” He gnashed out between his teeth. Merle was good like that. And he wasn’t wrong about him neither. Only person could kill Merle was Merle. In the end, Daryl had been right. He hated when he was.

In the back of his mind he was reminded of a time when he’d knocked a glass over. His Daddy had thrown a fit at the broken shards that littered the ground. Forced Daryl to pick them up by hand. And he did. Dixons didn’t say no when they were told to do something. And they certainly didn’t give up either.

Merle had been the one to stitch his hand up. Wrapped up the bleeding mess with an old ratty dishcloth and a nonchalant ruffle to his copper hair. He could still smell the sharp tobacco of the cigarette Merle had been smoking. The stick dangling from his lips as he half-soberly wrapped it about his hand. That was that and nothing more needn’t be said about the whole matter. He just understood that things were just as they were. Wasn’t more they could do but grin and bear it as they did— day in, day out.

When Carol finished dressing his wound, her soft voice brought him back from his childhood. Brush of fingers dancing along the bandage. He swallowed the lump clogging his throat. He felt nervous again. A weight slowly building in his chest— always present and then not. He’d grown accustomed to it, but found it burdensome when she seemed to breech his comfort zone. Wasn’t her fault. It just happened that way.

When she kissed at his wrist, pressing her warm lips at that one spot that sent a shiver down his spine, he damn-near choked on his tongue. Not a literal choke. Just a flop of his gut that sent his insides a flutter. Jaw didn’t bother to work to form words as they were lost on him. He may as well gone mute from his reaction. A boy’s reaction to being kissed by a girl. She felt her lips whisper silent words and then pulled away.

"Jus’ fine. Not more can be done." His voice coarse like sand having struggled to find it finally broke his silence. Daryl found words hard to come by in that moment. His sentences a tangle of thoughts running faster than his mouth could form. Knowing the fool he was going to make of himself, Daryl’s jaw went rigid, muscle taut. Not another word spoke.

He could feel those bright blue eyes searching him out as he stood there in the dark. That glean ever so sharp in spite of the dim light that only seemed to trickle because of the moon. Wetting his chapped lips he tried once more. “Better get some shut eye. Ain’t got a lot of time ‘fore we go.” Daryl’s voice this time held more strength in his tone despite the boyish warble that came through. He shied away almost instantaneously feeling the embarrassment of her kiss at his wrist settling into his cheeks.

Thank god it was dark. Daryl could play it aloof like it hadn’t bothered him and they could maybe go about sleeping without making things somewhat weird. He did find things odd between them. An unresolved sort of tension that he wasn’t completely sure on. He had a remote idea, but it surely would never come to fruition. Not right now at least. Not right now.

\--//-- 

Carol let him pull his hand away with so much as a fight. She cleaned up her cleaning supplies, tucking them back into her pack. Her fingers clamped tight around the bottle of gatorade. She picked it up, placing it on the sink. “Here. Just in case you’re thirsty.” She gave him a smile of sorts in the darkness. “Can’t have you or me getting dehydrated.” 

She then turned her attention to bedding down for the night. She very easily folded up the poncho to use as a pillow. It was much too hot to need a blanket, not to mention the thickness of it would just make it that much more closed in if she were to lay it across her. She sat down on the floor.

There was just enough light to make him out. He was standing, no doubt trying to make heads or tails of the mess they were in. She knew he needed his space to think so she didn’t say another word as she laid back and stared up at the ceiling. She swallowed the lump that formed as her mind went over the events of the night. 

Their kisses were fresh in her mind. Her lips gave a little tingle at the memory. Things had changed between them. And she would do good to remember that she had to keep treading carefully where his heart was concerned. Too fast and she’d lose him. Too slow and she’d grow impatient. She had to find a balance. Some way of showing him they could be more without messing up any sense of self or belonging that he had.

Her eyes were growing heavy as she turned onto her side, content to leave her thoughts and rest. She could still make him out. He was so much more than he’d ever given himself credit for. And he meant everything to her. She wouldn’t stop showing him now. She couldn’t. 

She drifted off to sleep, uncomfortable and full of so many emotions. Her dreams seemed to match with a mixture of past, present, future. She tossed a bit here and there, but remained asleep.


	36. Chapter 36

Daryl didn’t pay much attention to what Carol did to ready herself for sleep. Needed a vertical first and foremost. He wanted to scan the area if he could. Gauge what they were dealing with. Climbed up on the sink closest to the wall where the slivers of light leaked through. Fragments dancing along his face as it allowed him means of surveying outside from within. Perfect.

The sink was sturdy. Strong. He’d installed several of these in his younger years when he was a contract construction worker. The caulking was top notch and the sinks themselves able to withstand his 160 something odd pounds of weight applied to it. No groans in protest came from the sink as he folded his arms across his chest, propping himself up against the wall. Sharp eyes dancing along the lonesome figures that shambled under the moonlight.

Daryl wasn’t afraid of the sink buckling. It would withstand for the time being.

He heard her move about in the background trying to get comfortable. Time had been lost to him standing and staring out the vent. Eyes flicked over once to try and make out her shadow, but saw just a mass of blur and the soft glean of silver wisp. Her short cropped hair likely.

Restless. Is what it came down to. He would be too when he tried to bed down when it came time for her to take watch. Couldn’t relax with the biters outside. Never could. Their scratching and clawing at their door had died down some, but that didn’t alleviate the anxiety he felt being trapped like a couple of rats.

It reminded him of the storage units they’d taken refuge in during the winter months. Cramped and unpleasant. But warm and safe from the biting chill. Even if there was no room to stretch it was all they could scrounge up from the cold.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips growing increasingly bored. The joints in his body ached. That wouldn’t change. There was hardly any down time for him to just relax and let the wear and tear of the day pass by. Everyone was always calling on him for something. It seemed he was the most knowledgable with such things, he reckoned or simply that he would get things done once asked.

Feeling his eyelids begin to shut and the jerk of his body to pull him out of sleep, Daryl hopped down from the sink. Pacing would make this better. The soft thumps of his boots may as well have made tracks in the ground from how many times he had paced that small strip of floor. And each time he went past, Daryl’s eyes fell on Carol’s sleeping form.

It was like he was mentally checking that she was still there. That everything that had happened before really did happen and he wasn’t hallucinating. She was. He could hear the her short puffs of breath, but just barely.

When Daryl could begin to hear the soft hoot of an owl in the distance, he took that as sign it was his turn to rest. Bending down, Daryl gently nudged Carol’s arm. “‘Ey, yer turn fer watch.”

\--//-- 

Carol felt herself being shaken awake. And she couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t a moment too soon. Her dreams had been more vivid tonight than all other nights before. She kept seeing Daryl’s face. She felt his lips on hers, and now looking up into his face, she felt her own cheeks heat up. She sat up, losing her balance a bit and having to use his arm to steady herself.

She gave a soft sigh and a nod. “I’m awake. Just let me relieve myself, and I’m good to go.” She was suddenly second guessing the Gatorade as she stood up and gave a little stretch. They might have been in a bathroom, but she had never had to use the bathroom in his presence, and there was no way in hell she could hold it until he fell asleep. 

She chewed at her cheek and gave a shrug. “Just get settled for bed. Don’t listen,” she said with a whispered hiss. She was pretty sure with the sound of her voice how evident it was that she was in fact embarrassed. She gave a soft snort and hurried into a stall. She didn’t want to shut the door because it would make the already closed in space feel smaller and with how dark it was, he wouldn’t be able to see her. Right? Right.

She quickly pulled her pants down and held herself up off the seat not knowing what else had been there before her. She waited, nothing happened. She called out, “Could you maybe hum or whistle low or something?” Her voice was trembling a little as she made her request. 

This was the single most embarrassed she had been around him since she’d met him. “It’s just that, uh, I can’t…” She grunted softly. “Just do it okay?” She rolled her eyes at herself. Quit being a sissy, and do your business, Carol! And it was oddly enough heard inside her head in his voice. This just made her smile and forget her nerves all together. 

It wasn’t a few seconds later that she was pulling up her jeans and doing up the zipper. “Thanks. Get some sleep. I got this.” She patted her knife at her side and her pistol was held loosely in her hand from being removed from her waistband as she had to in order to pee.

"Wake you at first light?" She kept her distance. The dream and their talk before she had slept were all too much for her in that moment. She needed space to process what it was they were doing and where they were headed. She didn’t want to go back to the way it was before they’d kissed one another, but she was in no hurry to speed into anything else awkward as it may be. She wasn’t ready. Or was she?

She swallowed the lump in her throat as her own words echoed back to her. We don’t know if we get a tomorrow. She gripped the gun a bit tighter. “Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough,” she muttered.


	37. Chapter 37

Rousing from her sleep, Daryl stepped back allowing her room to get up and go about her routine— if she had one. She got up easy enough before he rushed forward to catch her. Caught her as she was about to fall. Near ran her head into the stall wall where she’d slept beside. Daryl didn’t have to ask if she was fine as she answered his question before he could utter the words himself. Taking a step back, he observed her for a moment ensuring she had righted herself and made about to move into her spot.

Just as he was bending down to throw out the blanket so he had a flat even surface to sleep on, he glanced up at her, brow drawn up in curiosity.

"Hmm?" He mumbled not quite understanding what she’d meant.

Before he could even bother to ask further, Carol had scurried around the corner and into one of the stalls. Oh… He thought shaking his head. Shrugging to himself, Daryl sat down on the old horse blanket he had fashioned into a poncho. It was thick for what it was and gave a decent padding in comparison to the hard cement floor. It would make do for the time being. He’d slept on less comfortable floors in the past. This was nothing.

Daryl had to stifle a laugh at her aforementioned humming she had wanted him to do to drown out the noise. She was obviously embarrassed from what he could tell from the sharp note in her voice. “What? The hell am I? Some ragtime tune box? Just fuckin’ go already.” He huffed teasingly, wrinkling his nose and a shake of his head.

After a few seconds of resignation, Daryl scoffed and grumbled a low fine under his breath and began whistling an old tune he had rather enjoyed as a kid. Didn’t know why this one came to mind but it did and reminded him of better days— the past.

When Carol rounded the corner less uncomfortable, Daryl stopped his whistling and harrumphed at her. “Yeah, wake me when the sun’s up.” He replied edging down so he could lay flat on his back. Drawing his arms back to cradle his head, he stared up at the dilapidated ceiling that hung overhead. He could see where the roof was cracked from the vague slivers of light that gleaned through the dark.

After a while of counting the rivets in the roof beams, Daryl felt his eyes grow heavy. He tried forcing himself to stay awake but his body claimed otherwise. He hadn’t slept in several days. At least not any real sleep that he could call. He’d taken a small nap on his way back in the car to the prison, but had been ruefully awakened by a pothole in the road. Otherwise he had caught a little bit standing watch over the quarantine area while Hershel and the others busied themselves with getting medicine into the sick.

A scuttle outside the door was the last thing he heard before his eyes shut and silence drowned everything around him out.

\--//-- 

Carol was content to let him drift off into sleep without any further words passing between the two of them. She was confused and terrified all at once, and it made for a very conflicting time for her emotionally. She shouldn’t be thinking of her relationship with Daryl and where they were possibly going to go from there when she’d taken two lives of the members of their extended family. She knew it couldn’t be chalked up to as little as that. She had thought it was for the best, but she knew now that it was never okay, and it would never happen again. She knew it in her heart, but what if the others refused to have her there? What if after everything she and Daryl had gone through tonight ended up being for nothing?

She sat down against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she listening to his even steady breathing when he finally managed to drift off to sleep. Every so often, he’d shift and move. It would draw her eyes toward the direction of where his body lay. When his quiet snores starting back up again, she gave a soft sigh and laid her head back against the wall.

She knew it was unfair to ask him to protect her once they returned to the prison. She knew it would put him at odds with so many of the others that likely agreed with Rick and his punishment. She felt the tears sliding down her cheeks then, silently berating herself for not being able to handle it. She wouldn’t make it out of there alive if she let her guilt eat her from the inside out. It wasn’t fair to put all of this on his shoulders. And if it came down to one of them not making it back, she’d gladly sacrifice herself so that he could live. They needed him so much more than they would ever need her.

No one would trust her again. She wasn’t even sure if Daryl did. She couldn’t really ask him to after everything. She let out a shaky breath and buried her head against her knees to recollect herself. She didn’t need to spend any time alone to dwell on things that she couldn’t change. It didn’t fix anything, and it just made her want to crawl inside herself and just stay there.

She turned her head, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness and watched him as he slept. The little bit of light allowed her this view of him that she knew she’d likely never get again. He was almost child-like. And he was relaxed, and she knew he deserved that. Her fingers itched to reach out and dance across his forehead and push the hair off of it gently, but she wouldn’t risk waking him up. He needed the rest so that they’d be able to get out of there at first light.

She found that if she focused hard enough on him that she could drowned out the sounds of the walkers at the door as they shambled and scratched at the door. She looked up as it appeared that more light was now streaming through the top slats. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her knees then knowing that their time there was drawing closer and closer to an end.

She shifted, cracking her back and reached for the backpack and pulled it to her to inventory what little bit they had on them. She managed to find a few out of date granola bars. That would be breakfast. She pulled out one each and the bottle of Gatorade. They’d just have to make do, and she’d make him eat if she had to. He’d need his strength.

For now, she waited for it to get a bit lighter out before she shifted again and shook him gently to wake him. “Daryl? Hey. Time to get up, sleepyhead. It’s getting lighter out.”


	38. Chapter 38

He felt soft gentle hands at his shoulder shaking him awake. Daryl’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his name being called. He had to blink to try and refocus as he groaned feeling the creak and pop of his bones. Definitely could feel the wear and tear of day-to-day life as it was kicking in. Sitting up he yawned stretching his arms up to arch his back a little. When he was done yawning, he absently scratched at his chest, cracking an eye open to glance at Carol who sat crouched by his side.

"I’m up." He groused yawning again, before pushing to his feet.

His neck felt stiff having slept on the hard cushioned floor. And he was sure that he had slept on better in the past. Scoffing at the thought as it had been the floor of his own bedroom that he was thinking of with the plush carpet. Merle having claimed his bed to use for a quick fuck with one of the local waitresses at the bar down at the edge of town. It seemed to be a recurring trend with Merle whenever it was he returned from juvenile hall or a stint in jail. Always the same.

Shaking his head at the thought, Daryl rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and doing his best to get his bearings. Being woken up wasn’t something he enjoyed even if it was Carol. It seemed to throw off his natural routine, but being locked in the bathroom was not part of the commonplace morning necessities.

Rolling out his shoulders as he sauntered over towards one of the stalls pushing one of the doors open. The loud crick of his neck echoed in the empty bathroom and a sigh of relief fell from his lips. His eyes scanned the inside of the stall observing the numerous different scrawls of writing graffitied over most everything. Several of the passages were those of desperation.

"Garrett I made it to Savannah. I’ll find you."

Unzipping the fly of his pants, he steadied himself with a palm flat against the cool of the wall as he relieved himself. His eyes kept returning to the walls reading the other notes that had been left behind in hopes that someone might find them. He wondered how many others had sought refuge here… whether or not they had made it out alive. It didn’t matter.

When he finished, Daryl zipped himself up and stepped out from around the corner and towards the sink that was empty of glass. There was quite a bit of blood on the wall and sink from the night before. Fingers gingerly brushed at where Carol had bandaged him up and saw the small bloom of red that was coming through. He’d gone and fucked up his hand, he was sure of this as the sting of the shredded skin kicked in full.

Wincing at the pain in his hand, the muscle in his jaw went taut and he had to shut his eyes to control the grunt of pain that tried escaping his lips. Daryl couldn’t let Carol see that his hand was in some sort of pain. Not when they were planning their escape. He had to keep his cool and bite down the sting. That’s what Dixons did.

The knob turned more times than he would have liked before a few dribbles of water spilled out of the faucet and onto his hands as he tried cleaning his hands— somewhat. When he had somewhat gotten into his groove of normal morning habits, Daryl returned his attention to Carol who had remained rather quiet save for the occasional statement or two, which elicited a grunt from him.

Daryl was weary. Mentally exhausted from the night’s conversations… arguments… the touching and confessions. All had worn him down and he simply just pushed through it all. He wanted out and back inside the prison walls. He would deal with whatever repercussions awaited him upon his return— stand his ground by his decision, whatever it was they aimed to do to Carol or himself. For now, he tried steeling himself for whatever was lurking on the other side of the bathroom wall.

\--//-- 

Carol smirked when he told her that he was up. He was always a bit crabby when he was woken up. She kept her place on the floor, not at all eager to get this part of their day started. All roads lead to the prison, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that, but she made a commitment. She wasn’t about to be another person that left him. Not when she could help it. If the others chose to kill her or turn her out again, then so be it. It was what it was. And she knew damn well that she’d take whatever punishment they saw fit.

She watched as he tried to work out the kinks in his neck and back. She waited for him to step into the stall before deciding that she needed to get up and move about herself and work the stiffness out of her own joints. She pushed herself up off the floor, pulling the pack with her. She suggested, “There’s granola bars. Out of date, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

She reached in and grabbed one for herself and tore open the wrapper and took a small bite, unsure if her body would let her keep anything down. She was a ball of nerves for damn sure. She sat the back pack into the sink that held all the glass from the night before. It wouldn’t be used for anything else anyway. May as well serve as a table.

She managed to get down half the bar without her stomach revolting and shoved the remainder into her mouth then. She chewed slowly, needing something to do with her mouth so that she didn’t open her mouth and say the wrong thing right out of the gate. She watched as he emerged from the stall. Her head wasn’t turned toward him, but her eyes were. She took him in as he inspected his hand, but she remained quiet for now.

They had to get out of there, and that was all that mattered at the moment. There was time to check out his hand later. Preferably when they were behind the fences at the prison. She let out a soft sigh. “So what’s the plan, Daryl?” She already knew he had one. He wouldn’t have slept otherwise. “You just give me direction, and I’ll do whatever it takes. No fuss.”

She stepped closer to him, unable to really stay away. In the daylight, she could see all of his features, and it was like a magnet that was pulling her forward. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She touched his arm gently then and let it rest there for a moment. “I just wanted to say that no matter what happens when we get back…thank you. Thank you for coming to get me. For wanting me back. I know I don’t deserve that from you after what I did, but I, uh, mean that. Truly, I do.”


	39. Chapter 39

At the mention of some meager means of food, Daryl absently dipped his hand into the backpack and found a wrapped granola bar. He didn’t care that the expiration date was visible to his eye— a year at most. It wasn’t the worst he had had in recent memory. Food was food and he couldn’t be picky. Not when most food was scarce save for the occasional deer or squirrel he would chance upon and even thatwas becoming increasingly hard to find.

He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and spat out the bit that he’d removed. Methodically chewing and swallowing bite for bite of the granola bar, Daryl tried to construct his plan so it didn’t sound as brash and nonchalant as he knew it would come out to be. It was the only way he saw fit for working and getting them both out— alive. Not after everything they had gone through the night before… He wouldn’t let this all go to waste. Dixons didn’t give up and he wasn’t no quitter.

She was talking again. He wasn’t really listening. He really did enjoy listening to Carol, but at the moment his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of the reactions of the people when he brought back Carol to the prison and then whether or not this was his decision that he was forcing upon her. Carol had seemed adamant on acquiescing to Rick’s wishes and for a brief pause Daryl had to take a step back and assess the situation. It had been a long and trying night for the both of them. Perhaps they’d discuss more of whatever this was when they gathered a bit more gas on their way back.

Daryl was still devising a plan in his head when he was interrupted by the warmth of her hand at his arm. Immediately he jumped back not fully anticipating the gesture at that moment. He angled his head to look at her when she let it linger longer and his brow furrowed slightly at her words. Chewing carefully, Daryl assessed what she was doing and swallowed slowly.

"Don’t go givin’ me yer good-byes. We ain’t dead yet,” he replied balling the wrapper up into his fist and stuffing it into his pant pocket, “‘sides, what makes ya think they ain’t gon’ listen? That’s why he have a damned council in the firs’ place.”

Pulling himself out of contact, Daryl placed a hand to the small of her back and led her to the wall that the stalls ran along and pointed up. “See that there?” He drawled indicating that he wanted her to listen up and pay attention. “I’m gon’ shimmy over that wall take out what walkers are on the other side. You can peek over, be my eyes if ya have ta.”

Dropping his hand back to his side, Daryl worked his jaw meeting her eyes for a brief moment before slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and ducking around the corner. Nudging the door open, he carefully stepped up onto the toilet seat and used the stall walls for leverage as he scrambled up. When he was up and on the lip of the wall, Daryl glanced back to look at Carol.

"No good-byes," he growled arching a brow at her, "Stay safe."

\--//-- 

Carol couldn’t bring herself to drop her hand, so she was grateful that he had severed the contact. The lines were only blurring more, and she had to get a handle on herself now and get her head back in the game. Their very lives depended on the both of them escaping that bathroom alive. She wiggled her fingers a bit and then wiped them on her jeans. She met his eyes.

"Not goodbyes," she softly informed him. "Gratitude." She was the one to jump when his fingers landed on the small of her back, guiding her to the wall. When he pointed up and told her of his plan, she nodded. She moved to follow him when he headed into the stall and moved herself into the second stall and stood up on the back of the commode. 

She was only barely tall enough to see over. It was even messier on the other side than it was in this one. “You planning to sneak up on them? Outside I mean. You sure an extra pair of hands won’t be better than a pair of eyes?”

She could see him and he was already most of the way over the wall. Her heart was in her throat and she had to swallow hard. “Nine lives,” she barely echoed back to him. And she was what? Working on her seventh or eighth life already now? Her heart hammered. “Daryl, I, uh…” She wouldn’t say it. She couldn’t. Not now. 

When things were better, when they were safe. She gave him a nod. “Be careful out there.” Please? She added silently, watching him disappear over the wall the rest of the way.


	40. Chapter 40

Before Daryl completely disappeared over the ledge, he glanced back to look at Carol. “Naw… ain’t gon’ do that. Clear out this room firs’. From there… we run.” He replied with a nod of his head. He sidled down swinging his legs over and carefully finding a foothold on the top of the piping of the toilet. He breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped lightly and found an even footing on the seat.

Daryl paused a moment. He couldn’t hear anything in the room with him— at least so far. The stalls seemed relatively empty from where he had been at the top of the wall, but of course he could only see from the angle he had been. No knowing what actually was just lying dormant until he made that one fateful move.

Setting his crossbow down carefully, ensuring it made no noise as he did so, Daryl withdrew his buck-knife. Holding his breath as he did, Daryl took a step down from the toilet seat. He drew his knife up keeping it relatively close to his chin as he thumbed the door open, hesitating to step out as the hinge squeaked loudly. His heart hammered in his head as Daryl moved soundlessly from out of the stall and tiptoed quietly about the small space.

Empty.

The last two stalls had yet to be checked. Daryl held his breath as he gently pushed the first open. Nothing. His eyes scanned the stall a moment noting the bottles of empty liquor at the ground and a tarnished old backpack. He’d rummage through that after he checked the final stall.

Taking a deep breath, Daryl pushed the door open harder as it swung open and took a step back preparing himself for the worst. Again nothing. He sighed heavily dropping his stance and glancing back to the lip of the wall. “‘Ey! Hand me yer gear. Let’s get goin’.” He barked hoping she heard him from the other side.

\--//-- 

Carol held her breath. She laid her head on the concrete wall as she waited for sound and movement from the other side of the wall. Her heart thumped so loud in her chest, she was certain it would bang its way right on out of her ribcage. She was about to call to him, when she heard him asking for her gear.

She reached onto her back pulling the backpack free and shoving it over the wall. Once he seemed to have taken it, she herself shimmied up the wall as quick as she could which was nowhere near as easy as he had made it look. She got one leg over and paused. 

"Daryl?" She whispered. She needed to know that he was on the other side ready to help steady her and guide her. She had never been good at climbing trees or sneaking out of the house. So these were skills she hadn’t possessed not once in her lifetime.

"Gonna need a little help here. My legs aren’t as long as yours. You ready?" She glanced over the wall, not seeing him. "Daryl, is everything okay over there?" Her heart began to race again, knowing she shouldn’t panic and had to remain calm.

She didn’t know if she should just keep going or wait for him. Her body was rigid and she couldn’t protect herself from this position. Both gun and knife were useless at this point.


	41. Chapter 41

Daryl's POV:

"Hold on. Dammit." He grumbled from within one of the stalls. Daryl had ducked back into the first that he had initially checked. There had been on old weathered backpack just sitting. No chance in hell he would simply leave it without rummaging through to see if there was anything they could use.

Rude, he was. Definitely didn’t fall short of that tree. Wasteful, he was not. That was something ingrained into him by his Daddy and he supposed for once in his life that he was grateful for the man for instilling that skill in him.

Of course he found nothing of real importance in the backpack. Most everything inside, he already had himself tucked away in one pocket or another. A multitool that had yet to be used. The metal grip still shiny as if it had just left the packaging but never in the hands of the owner. A flashlight. An emergency blanket and old MREs. Now that was something of interest. It may not have been the best means for food but it was definitely something worth trying to make happen.

Chucking the backpack out of the stall, Daryl swung around the door and back into the first one he could visibly see Carol nearest as she straddled the wall. Hooking his fingers into his belt loops, Daryl paused a moment to chuckle at her current situation. “Wha? Ya can’t hop no lil’ wall? Fine. I’ll come getcha.” He chided shaking his head as he hopped up onto the toilet seat, carefully placing his feet on both sides of the rim to keep from slipping in.

Reaching up, Daryl slipped a hand beneath her thigh trying to cradle her weight as best as possible when she finally decided to climb down. “C’mon, we ain’t got all day. I won’t let ya fall.” He coaxed roughly as he waited on Carol.

\--//-- 

His smart ass reply wasn’t lost on her, but she was just grateful that he was alive and well. “Don’t you sass me, Dixon…” She delivered with no real bite to her bark. She just wanted off the damn wall, but she wasn’t budging until he was there to spot her.

When he rounded the stall and entered, she glared at him. Something she rarely did with him, but he deserved it for poking fun at her. “You might want to leave me up here. Because I just might kick your ass good when I’m on my feet again and upright.”

Truth be told, she loved and adored his sass. And rarely did she ever take it to heart. She knew him like she knew the back of her own hand. But there was a time and a place for everything. And now wasn’t a time for playing. “Get up here and spot me. Don’t need me injuring myself and putting our asses on the line even more, do we?”

She felt his hand going around her right leg and relaxed a bit. She glanced over at him. “I know you won’t. Just go slow…” And before she knew it, her foot was settled on the back of the commode and then the other one followed. She felt him keeping a steady hand on her until he climbed down and she readily followed. “Thanks…” She touched his arm to show she was truly grateful for his help. She could have done it, but she was almost as terrified of heights as she had been of enclosed spaces. She just never let on.

She smoothed out her clothes. “Find anything?” She kept her voice low. As far as she could tell they walkers weren’t crowding the door to this bathroom. So they just might slip away unheard or unseen.


	42. Chapter 42

Daryl’s POV:

Daryl chuckled at her remark but helped her down nonetheless. He kept his hands settled near her waist as she made her way down taking care not to let either of themselves slip and fall. No need to get hurt when there was no reason for it. It was something they simply couldn’t afford in their present situation.

Finding their footing on even ground, they left the stall, Daryl allowing Carol to exit first. She touched his arm as she went and for a moment he paused before shaking himself from the musing of the gesture. Bending down to pick up the old backpack he had found near his feet, Daryl set it atop one of the sinks and unzipped it. Pulling the MRE from within he passed it off to Carol.

"Here." He muttered zipping the pack back up and tossing it back into the stall devoid of any help that could be had.

Daryl was hungry but he would go without. He needed her to be at full strength so she could help him if need be. There was still no real knowing what was beyond the door. For all Daryl knew there could very well be nothing out there, but that was only wishful thinking. “Eat up. We got work t’do.” He grumbled crouching down on his haunches to rummage through his own pack.

Digging out his own pistol, he thumbed open the cylinder checking for bullets. Only three remained. He hadn’t found any bullets in recent memory on any of his loot runs. Sighing to himself he knew this may not be an easy win. Tucking it in his back waistband, Daryl zipped up his pack and slung it over his shoulders.

His mind was still sifting about of the nights conversations and he wondered if he was making the right decision. Was this what Carol really wanted? His eyes slowly panned up finding her own head tilted towards the door, not quite looking dead on at her. What was it that she wanted?

Carol’s POV:

Carol took the MRE and frowned. A flash of that fateful day when she and Sophia had been barked at by Ed to get their asses in the Cherokee. He’d filled the back with MREs and other survival gear. The man had always been paranoid. Ate that shit up and it didn’t change after they were married. And not even a little bit after Sophia had come along.

She felt her stomach lurch as the swirl of emotions and memories moved around her head. She had to catch her breath. “The granola bar filled me up,” she said in a small somewhat wary voice. “You, you take it, Daryl.” She pushed it back at him. The hard set of her jaw and look in her eyes enough to request he not go there. Not right now.

She needed to be strong and clear minded. They were going to make it out of here whole and with their lives. He’d come there to save her, and she wasn’t going to let it be for nothing. It couldn’t be for nothing. Even if she was terrified of what they would do to her when she stepped back into the prison yard. It would almost be easier if she had all the answers now. And then she’d be prepared.

"Daryl, I can handle them. At the prison, I mean. I just need you to know that whatever happens…even if they vote to return me to Rick’s exile, I can handle myself. You’ve done all you can do at this point. And I have to take the punishment for killing…" Her voice wavered then, making it hard to keep speaking. She swallowed then. "Karen and David." She finished strong and grew silent for several beats.

She checked her clip. Full and she had half a clip in her pocket. “Maybe you should have this…” She offered her pistol. “When I go back inside, I don’t need to be armed. I don’t need to pose a threat.”


	43. Chapter 43

Daryl watched the display as Carol took the MRE in hand before shoving it back into his hands. Her voice shaking as she spoke. He frowned at the way she was acting not sure whether or not he should be asking whether she was okay or not. Taking a hesitant step forward, Daryl stopped in his tracks. When she shot him a look that said otherwise, Daryl knew better to keep his own damned mouth shut and to back off. He’d ask perhaps when things settled or if there was a next time.

Despite her words for him to use the thing, Daryl just shrugged and tucked the MRE ration back into his pack, slipping it back onto his shoulders. “You gon’ be fine?” He asked low, drawing a brow up in question, ducking his head slightly to catch her gaze. He couldn’t have her fumbling. Daryl knew he could easily handle most walker situations, but if there were an excessive amount— he was only a single man. He would have to rely on her for help. They had to rely on each other. It was no different from all the other times.

Scratching just above his ear, Daryl worked his jaw listening to her speak. Her words digging a little at him. “Don’t talk ‘bout it. We got other things t’deal with righ’ now.” He replied roughly trying to keep her mind on the task at hand. Carol needed to be of like mind with him. As bothered as he was by his own minds jostling, Daryl knew that could easily spell disaster for the both of them. Wouldn’t matter if one of them got away— they wouldn’t get far.

The swell of anger was starting to bubble forth when she offered her gun to him. He shut his eyes a moment, trying to control himself, but finding it hard to do. “Keep it. Yer gon’ need it if we get overrun.” He growled, pushing it back into her hands, muzzle pointed down towards the ground. “Don’t you try an’ give it back. This ain’t no damned competition. Take the fuckin’ thing.”

His words though harsh were loose in meaning. Daryl didn’t want either of them without a means of getting away, whether it was by knife or gun. No one was getting left behind.

\--//--

Carol felt the cool metal of the weapon’s handle being pushed against her stomach. She met his eyes. She wasn’t about to argue with him. He had his mind in the game, and she scrambled desperately to get there, too. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. “Won’t argue,” she replied quickly.

She just wanted her thoughts and feelings know in case there wasn’t time later. She didn’t want him doing anything rash when they returned to the prison. She opened her eyes then, locking on his. “I’m good.” And she was. The minute they stepped outside, she was back in this. He should know her better than to think she’d let her own heart and mind be her worst enemy when it counted.

“Just not hungry is all.” She explained vaguely about the MRE. He should have eaten it, but that wasn’t his style. She knew that. “Ready to get out of this God forsaken place,” she growled. “The others gotta be worried about where the hell you run of to.” Especially when they learn the true reason for his depature.

She pushed herself off the wall. “We’re making it back to the bike, right? Then from there we do a gas run.” She stepped forward then, grabbing her pack and securing it to her back. She needed to make sure nothing was loose that the walkers could grab a hold of and pull her down. She wouldn’t be the reason he got killed. Not today. Not ever.

“Then it’s straight back to the prison?” Her body was rigid, ready, and primed. She wasn’t jumpy. They had work to do. And it was time to get it done.


	44. Chapter 44

“Good ‘cause we ain’t got the time t’do that shit righ’ now.” He grunted booting the stirrup of his crossbow as he pulled back, drawing the string back. Daryl needed to be prepared before they threw open the door. Every little bit counted. He listened as she gave a synopsis of what she knew of their plan. She’d hit every point. Daryl nodded in acknowledgement before, scratching at the scruff of his throat gruffing out: yes, ma’am.

That seemed to be their designated plan as he had revealed earlier before he had hopped the wall. Get the hell out of the fucking bathroom and back to the motorcycle as quickly as they could. From there they would stop somewhere and try and siphon as much gas into the tank of the motorcycle. Hopefully what they could find was all that they needed. And if all went accordingly they would be headed back to the prison.

Daryl watched Carol carefully as she spoke— took observation of her mannerisms, gestures, and expressions. He noticed particularly the rigidity in her posture at the mention of the prison. She seemed to calm up even talking about it herself. Not this ‘gain. He thought to himself, but if it was a bother to her than it was something that needed addressing and it had to be fast.

He advanced towards Carol and grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to look at him. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush this time. Things had to be laid out on the table— no holds barred. “‘Ey, d’ya even wanna go back? ‘Cause I gotta know what the fuck it is ya want. Ain’t gon’ force ya to go t’the prison if ya don’t wanna.” He growled low getting closer to her to make his point. Daryl had to know that his time— effort was worth all the hassle. All this heartache that they were both going through.

\--//--

Carol’s eyes instantly darkened, freeing her arm from his grasp. “Of course I do, Daryl. But excuse me for thinking ahead and worrying if I am even wanted there. It’s the facts. Rick didn’t want me there because of what I did. Chances are others will feel the same way. I can’t go in skipping and singing. Can I?” She put distance between them.

If he didn’t understand that, then she wasn’t wasting her time trying to get it through to him. She knew she could shoulder whatever it was that came with returning, but she couldn’t quiet her fears. She was only human.

“So are we going to do this or what?” She planted a hand to her hip and cocked her head, staring him down. They were wasting time standing here arguing a hypothetical point.

She adjusted the strap on her pack, securing it to her back, but making sure it could easily be freed if the need arose to abandon it to make her get away.

Daryl wasn’t the one that killed Karen or David so he had no idea what she was feeling down deep inside. He had an idea of it, yes, but he didn’t commit the actions so he was grasping when he tried to empathize with her emotions and resolve.

She stepped closer then. “Is this a problem between you and me? Because if it is, then that’s what we need to deal with here and now. Are you afraid of the repercussions that come with being the one to bring me back?”


	45. Chapter 45

“Ne’er said you was.” He asserted thickly letting go of her arm as she stepped away from him. It was a question that needed asking and if she wanted to get huffy with him— fine. Daryl had to know that this was what she wanted. He reckoned that was answer enough.

Straightening his shoulders up, Daryl took a step back scoffing at her scowl. If she was trying to make him stand down, it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t afraid of her. Shaking his head, he thumbed the button clasp at his hip of his knife and pulled it free. “Yeah, c’mon.” Gesturing for her to follow him, Daryl put a hand at the large knob of the lock.

The tension and anticipation of what was beyond the door was thick in the air and it had his nerves on edge. Hearing the dull thuds of her boots beside him, Daryl cocked his head back at her question. Narrowing his gaze, he shook his head. “No, don’t care what they think. This was my decision t’make. They wanna pitch a damned fit… fine. I did what I had ta.” He let his eyes linger on hers for a moment longer before returning to the door.

Taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out as he did, Daryl turned the knob and shoved the door open. The light was blinding and it took him a second to gain focus barking at Carol to follow after him. There were walkers spread out amongst the open parking lot. The thumping on the other side of the building was louder than they had anticipated and he could visibly see a cluster of them huddled against the door they had slammed shut the night before.

“Let’s go!” He hissed reaching back to grab her wrist pulling her along. Several walkers were already headed for them in a jaunted pace, stumbling with their broken limbs. Ramming his knife beneath the jaw of one shambling towards him, Daryl shoved it away and ducked as he pulled the knife away. They had to get out now.

\--//--

All Carol knew at that point was that she wanted to survive. And that she’d follow him anywhere. The others could make their own fears known about her presence, and she’d deal with it when and if it came. She had the chance to prove to him just how grateful she was that he’d bothered to look for her at all, and she was going to take it and run with it.

When the door was thrown open wide, she blinked as the natural light filtered in, almost blinding her. She stepped forward, feeling his fingers encircle her wrist and pull her along. She was right on his heels. She didn’t need to be told, but she suspected that he felt better when he was giving her orders than if he had said nothing at all. Sometimes the man didn’t know that she needed to hear his thoughts and other times, he could just keep silent. Now was one of those times. She would have kidded him about it, but the situation itself wasn’t idea.

She could smell the walkers as they neared them, shambling and grunting and rasping out breaths they didn’t even need to take anymore. She wrinkled her nose as her fingers tightened around her own knife. Her hand was wrenched free from his grasp as she herself took down another walker that had just gotten too close for comfort.

Her body jerked around leaving her back toward him as she took in just how many were on their tails. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her pistol and pulled it free from the waistband of her pants. She wouldn’t fire unless it became absolutely necessary. And all she knew for sure was that they had to make it as hard as they could for whatever walkers followed to follow them. They had to reach the bike with enough time for him to get it started so they could go.

She turned, almost running right into him. “Go. Go. I’m right behind you.” She still gripped her pistol but managed to push him against his hip with the same hand. “Don’t look back. Just keep going. I can keep up,” she assured him as they made quick time across the asphalt and away from the small herd that was turning from where they were gathered at the door in which they’d locked behind them last night.


	46. Chapter 46

Her wrist was pulled free of his grasp and her barked commands at him to continue pressing forward rung out loud amongst the guttural groans and moans of the walkers lurching for them. A heavy set walker with guts trailing behind it came barreling towards him and he quickly grabbed at its collar using the momentum to thrust it into another knocking the both of them down to the ground in a pile.

Hustling forward he kept his buck knife poised as he thrust his knife into another skull of a walker, sucking sound of brain matter pulling at his knife. Kicking the dead thing free of his blade, Daryl drew his bow and loosed an arrow at a walker further in the path of their headed destination. The bolt soared through the air, launching itself through the cheek of the walker; it’s body sagging to the ground. Pulling an arrow free of the quiver he used it in the temple of another, hands outstretched as its fingers just brushing the scruff of his jaw.

They came in droves it seemed and he could feel the exhaustion beginning to settle in his bones. It felt like several long minutes that he’d been taking out walker after walker after walker. An endless clown car of them stumbling forth from the bathroom they’d been occupying the night before. Others from the thick brush of the woods.

As they got closer, Daryl hurried forward pulling the bolt free of the walker that had been in the trail they had taken earlier. Flicking the gore from the end of the bolt off, Daryl glanced over his shoulder shouting, “Carol! C’mon!” He could see her handling herself but they desperately couldn’t linger any longer or they would be swarmed and there would be no way of them getting to the motorcycle in time.

It was like running a gauntlet if there ever was one. Ducking and slamming his knife through eye socket, temple, skull, and up through the jaw, splatters of congealed blood and matter covering him in a thick layer. His breaths coming out in heavy pants as the thrumming of his heart echoed loud in his ears as the adrenaline began coursing its way through his body. Daryl could feel the stickiness of sweat clinging to his body as he continued running through the forest, casting a glance back to ensure Carol was still following behind.

She was there.

The hard surface of asphalt greeted his hurried footfalls as the path became much more navigable. In the distance he could see his motorcycle. His pace quickened as he hurtled towards it pulling the keys from his pocket and climbing on, boot sweeping the kickstand up. “Hurry! Gotta go!” He hissed when he felt Carol sidle up behind him. Turning the ignition, he heard the thing grumble to life, but died all of a sudden. Immediately he began pumping at the pedal trying to kick start it, cranking the key to get it to turnover.

Sound of shuffling and moans growing increasingly louder as he persisted to get the damned thing going. At the last second, the engine came to life and immediately he dropped the gear out of neutral to first drawing in the throttle as the motorcycle began propelling itself forward. Giving it gas, he kicked up into 2nd gear and then quickly into 3rd as he picked up speed. Daryl’s heart hammering itself against his chest loud in his ears suddenly died out with the loud growl of the motorcycle deafening. The sigh that escaped his lips lost as they barreled down the road.

\--//--

Carol’s eyes were everywhere at once. She made sure to keep Daryl in sight, never falling too far behind. Her heart was thundering in her ears. Her chest was on fire from breathing hard, but she couldn’t stop. She refused to be the reason he didn’t make it out of there. And truth be told, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to go back to the prison and do whatever it took to make things right. Not that she ever could, but she had to try.

She tripped over her own foot, cursing herself softly as she did so, but she managed to right herself and keep going. She was only a few feet behind him, and she knew that she was going to make it so long as she didn’t screw this up now. She saw him untangling the bike keys from his pocket and once she saw his leg being thrown over it, she knew they were home free. 

That was all she needed to travel that last little bit and slide her leg over the back and move as close to him as she possibly could. Her arms went around his middle, holding on for dear life. There was no time to worry about making him uncomfortable with the contact. She’d just deal with that later. Right now, they just had to survive.

When the engine sparked to life then died again, she buried her face in his back and whispered a silent prayer to the God that she wasn’t even sure if she still believed in or would even forgive her of her sins. Then the engine caught again and before she had time to whisper a thank you, the bike was eating up the ground in front of them. She tightened her grip, afraid that she’d slip and fall from the bike if she didn’t. 

The few weeks she’d rode on the back of the bike after the fall of the farm had taught her to expect the unexpected. She let out a shaky breath once they were clear of the walkers. She loosened her grip but only slightly. She moved her mouth to his ear. “My hero,” she teased, trying to lessen the tension not only between them but because of the situation as well.

She shifted slightly, moving her hands from around his waist to the bars on the back. She didn’t want to crowd him. He needed to be able to think, and she respected that. Even if she just wanted to rejoice in the moment that they were still alive. That they’d just escaped certain death and had lived to tell the tale.


	47. Chapter 47

Daryl’s POV:

When her arms wound their way about his waist and the motorcycle took off, Daryl couldn’t feel the held breath leave his lips. It had been a close call. Had the engine not turned over when it had, they would have been dead. Simple as that. His eyes flickered to the gas gauge noting that it was a little more than 1/6th of the way full. It was enough to get them by for maybe another few miles before he would start to worry.

Carol had gotten rather far in the time that she’d been gone. Reckoned it had to have been a good 50 miles out, but he knew these winding country roads well. There had been a gas station not too far from where they had been settled in for the night. He’d head there, see if there was any gas to scrounge up and if all persisted well— back to the prison.

He’d felt Carol adjust against him, loosening her hold on his middle, and her teasing voice at his ear. My hero. He sure didn’t feel like one. But he knew what she meant and continued puttering on down the road. Tilting his head slightly he simply gave Carol a nod, keeping his eyes steady on the beaten road. Veering a little to the side as there was tons of debris in the way in the more populated areas. Abandoned cars from people fleeing, wreckages, and generally just mother nature taking hold of what she’d lost.

Every so often his eye would catch a walker out in the fields as they rode on by, shuffling about, making their way somewhere else. Daryl wondered where it was they were headed to— if anywhere at all. Was there instinct that dictated where they went and why? Likely not. Too much thinking for something that did nothing but destroy.

In the distance the Hop Stop sign came into view. Hopefully all the gas hadn’t been siphoned or if anything was even still there. The motorcycle growled low as Daryl dropped down gears coming to slow in front of the place. There were several cars scattered about the parking lot, their doors wide open, creaking and groaning as a light wind passed by. Stopping a ways from the parking lot, Daryl killed the engine, flat-footing the bike. He gave a quick scan of the area, bringing his hand up to shield the glare of the sun from his eyes.

So far nothing. Throwing out the kick-stand, Daryl swung his leg over and removed his crossbow from where he’d tacked it on. “Stay close,” he muttered low as he pulled a bolt from his quiver, booting the stirrup to draw the tension on the string back. Nocking the bolt in place, he drew his crossbow up quietly making his way through the littered cars.

Carol’s POV:

Carol let her eyes wander from side to side as the countryside was eaten up by the bike. She shuddered to think about all the lives lost since the world ended. Everything looked like a ghost town, and it made her insides just ache with grief. 

So many lives lost or destroyed in some manner because of the walking dead that was a constant threat and obstacle. There wasn’t much time to be anything but practical and alert anymore. Even at the prison, they had to venture outside the fences for provisions. For other survivors.

She closed her eyes then, trying to shut out all other images from her mind and tried to imagine that the world was the way it was before, and that she had it all. Daryl. Sophia. Everything good. She had to open her eyes wide as the thought of Sophia conjured the last image of her baby girl. As a walker. She took in the scenery around them once more. How she wished she could banish that from her mind forever. She didn’t want to see her little girl that way. Not when she closed her eyes and not in her nightmares.

She frowned when she felt the bike slowing down. It was only then that she realized they were at a gas station. She held on just a bit tighter as he stopped the bike completely and scanned the area for walkers or any other danger. She swung her leg from the bike, scanning the opposite direction just so they had all their bases covered. She watched as he took up his crossbow once more and threaded a bolt into place.

Her eyes narrowed a bit as he instructed her to stay close. She gave a slight nod that she heard him, but she had already proved time and again that she could take care of herself. It was the one thing she prided herself for the most since the world had gone to shit. She quickened her pace a bit when she realized that he was a good five feet in front of her. She may be able to take care of herself, but the last thing they needed was to get split up while they were out in the open. 

She glanced around, hoping to find something they could use as a hose to siphon what little gas they would be lucky enough to find here. She narrowed her eyes and tapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward a coiled up water hose. “Could probably slice off a good enough bit.” She unsheathed her knife then, stepping to the side and heading for it. There was no time to waste at this point. 

She glanced back at him, giving him a slight smile. “Think there’s any bottled water left inside?” She was thirsty after their run through the forest just half an hour or so ago.


	48. Chapter 48

Daryl’s POV:

His eyes were scanning all over the place looking for something that they could utilize to siphon gas out— if there was any to be had. That was always the one drawback. If there was any left. Always the keyword being: if. They continued to press forward, moving about the parking lot at a relatively slow pace. Cautious. Crossbow drawn, finger hovering about the trigger as he swiveled his body looking around cars and over their roofs.

They could never be too careful. Could never leave their guards down for more than a moments notice. Anything could happen and if they weren’t ready— it was game over.

When Daryl felt the tapping of her fingers at her shoulder, he angled his head just so and followed where she was pointing. Giving her a nod at the coil of water-hose that she spied, Daryl followed on soft footfalls right behind her. So far from what he could tell the area was rather deserted. There was no real semblance of any walkers having been there in a while, but one couldn’t be too sure and so he crept along with his crossbow aimed high.

Stalking close behind they came to the hose and she turned to look at him, placid smile on her lips. Dropping his crossbow down, Daryl arched a brow in piqued curiosity taking a small step back. Cocking his head to glance at the building they stood beside, he shrugged his shoulders listlessly before squinting a little at the reflection of the sunlight glared harshly at him. “Maybe— I’ll go look.” He remarked taking a few long-legged strides towards the window.

Rubbing the side of his fist along the dust-caked window, he tried peering through the dirty window, but couldn’t really see much through the muck. Growling contentiously at the lack of sight, Daryl immediately brought his fist against the pane several times. Pausing. The waiting. He heard a slight shuffle coming from within. Bobbing his head, he brought his hand to the whiskers of his chin trying to listen intently to hear how many were lurking within.

There were no muffled groans from what he could hear nor hissing that was undoubtedly walkers inside. So it had him curious whatever was inside. “Ain’t no walker in there.” He mumbled continuing to watch the window for a few more seconds. When no congealed bloodied hands came pawing at the window, Daryl dropped his hand and drew his crossbow up. Making his way to the front of the building, he jiggled the handle, when it didn’t budge he took a step back and kicked open the door.

It swung open, splinters falling to the ground from the broken door jamb. Taking a cautious step forward, he crept inside the building. He held his breath as he proceeded to make his way inside unsure of whatever was lurking within. There was a scuttle coming from a corner and immediately he stalked closer to the sound. At the counter there were several rats scuttling about taking off in different directions. He grumbled in irritation before dropping his bow, slinging it across his back and drawing his knife.

If there was anything inside he’d get it before it got him.

Carol’s POV:

Carol bent next to the coil of hose, intent on section off a good size length to use a siphon. She narrowed her eyes at bit as she followed Daryl’s easy stride to the grimy window, watching as he rubbed his fist around in a circular motion and then watched as he peered inside. She tilted her head and then made herself focus on the task at hand. Last thing they needed was for her to slice herself up in the process.

She managed to get the hose cut in two and then folded the cut section in half as she moved to follow him to where he stood outside the abandoned gas station. She kept her ears and eyes on full alert. She heard his knuckles as they rapped on the thick pane of dirty glass. From the growl he emitted, she was certain he didn’t like that he couldn’t make heads or tails of what was inside. 

She stepped closer, faster, ready to back him up when the time came. “Think its some kind of animal? Surely, if anyone was in there, they’d make themselves known.” But she knew what it was like to be scared. They might just hope that they’d go away and leave the station alone. She jumped a little when he kicked in the door. It had been expected, but she hadn’t expected it to be so loud. 

She gripped her knife tighter, knowing her gun was within reach if she had any need for it. She watched as moved into the station and out of her line of vision. She took a steadying breath. She quickened her step. She stepped over the splintered wood as it had fallen to the ground and let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting inside. She about squealed when a rat made its way toward her and scampered over her foot and into the sunlight just beyond the door. She clamped her hand to her mouth. 

“Jesus,” she breathed out, sucking in several deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Her eyes panned around, finding Daryl, crossbow on his back and knife in hand. “Have you found anything?” Her voice was but a soft hiss. She slowly crept toward him, eyes on the ground for any other rodents that might want to scare the life out of her today.


	49. Chapter 49

Daryl’s POV:

The sudden thumps of Carol’s footfalls behind him immediately grabbed his attention, knife rising up in a defensive stance. Realizing that it was only Carol, he dropped his knife to his side letting out a shallow breath. “Couple o’ rats. Nothin’ so far.” He remarked taking another step forward boots crunching over broken glass from the cash wrap. The contents of whatever had been inside of the glass cabinet having been taken long before they had come across the place.

Stooping down he noticed a bent package of cigarettes tucked under several thick panes of shattered glass. Brushing the loose fragments away, he pocketed the package before getting to his feet and proceeding further to look around. He was thirsty too. Mouth parched of drink and immediately his eyes were scanning about for where the bottled drinks would have been shelved. Making his way towards the back of the store he came across an overturned aisle.

Cautiously tucking his knife back into its sheath, Daryl bent down peeking beneath the shelf to see if anything was trapped. He heard a loud hiss and immediately took a step back drawing his buck-knife again. “The hell is that?” He murmured not recognizing it as a hiss of a snake. It sounded more like a possum or possibly a cat.

Slipping his backpack to his chest, he pulled out a small penlight, depressing the button and shining the light under the shelving unit. A rat-like tail and hand-like paws could be visibly seen where the light passed. “Sunovabitch, fuckin’ possum.” He growled low with a huff slipping his knapsack back onto his back. “Careful,” he murmured getting back to his feet ignoring the hissing angry animal for the moment.

Moving away from the overturned shelf, Daryl padded to the other side of the store spying an old freezer chest where ice once would have been stored. Lifting the lid of the hulking chest, he was greeted with an empty container, almost immediately slamming the thing shut upon his realization. He absently kicked at it out of frustration swearing under his breath at the sting in his foot shooting up the gamut of his leg.

Daryl cocked his head over to Carol not caring about her reaction to his sudden outburst. They’d die long before walkers got to them if they didn’t find any water. And that was the last thing he wanted to be his demise: death by dehydration. Raking his fingers through the sweaty wisps of his hair, he paced the small length of path that wasn’t haphazardly strewn with glass or debris.

Carol’s POV:

Carol watched as he pocketed the cigarettes. She could have kicked his ass, but instead, she just smiled. He did so much for everyone else. If he wanted cigarettes from time to time, who was she or anyone else to guilt him into giving them up. She turned her head at the sound of the hiss. “Daryl, be careful.” She moved closer to him, but she kept her distance. She had no desire to tangle with whatever it was that was making that sound. 

“An o’possum? Shit. I thought it was a snake…” She could handle the critters of the furry variety, but the snakes she could do without. She gave an involuntary shudder. She had her hand clasped to her throat, trying to slow her breathing down. She remembered the first one she’d had to eat. She was a bit hesitant, but it had given them much needed protein, and she wouldn’t dare turn up her nose to food that he risked his neck to get for them.

She turned her head when she heard the commotion. She was just in time to see him kick the empty cooler. She winced, knowing the pain must have been terrible. But she’d never let on. She was used to his tempter tantrums at this point, and it was just like with a child, you do not reward bad behavior by rising to the occasion. Instead, she moved close to him, touching his arm as he made another pass by where she stood and moved closer. 

“Daryl, just calm down. Okay?” Her other hand had resheathed her knife and she moved her palm to rest again his cheek before stepping into him entirely and giving him a quick hug. “We’re not lost yet.” She had to keep the faith that they’d find something to drink in here. “We still have to check the storage room. Could be something in there.” She pulled away, looking up into his eyes for a moment and gave a slight shrug to her shoulder. 

“Soon as we get some gas, we’ll head on back home. There’s plenty of water there. Right?” She knew there was so many things that could happen between here and there, but she had to keep the faith, right? One of them couldn’t lose hope. She let her hand move down his arm and then she squeezed his fingers before letting them go just as quickly as she had grabbed them. 

She pulled out her knife again moving toward the furthest part of the station. “Now or never, huh?” She gave him a quick smile.


	50. Chapter 50

Daryl’s POV:

The hand at his shoulder had him flinching but not outright jerking away from the touch. It had caught him off guard as his mind reeled with thoughts of not having enough of anything to get back to the prison. Not enough ammo. Not enough time. There was likely not enough gas to be siphoned nor any water to be had to keep them from suffering sun stroke or dehydration.

Taking a long deep breath through his nostrils, his pacing ceased and his whirlwind attitude slowly deflated as he came down from his surge of anger. The hand at his cheek had almost quelled every bit of his outburst, fists still clenched tight in frustration. Slowly bobbing his head at her words, Daryl steps back and mumbles, “Okay.” The quick hug took him aback, but he didn’t push Carol away. He let his hand rest at the small of her back before dropping his hand and turns his head towards the indicated storage room.

The squeeze of her hand over his gave him a reassuring notion that perhaps they were simply checking the wrong area and so Daryl let go the fit of anger he’d let loose. He couldn’t afford to make too much racket as they were still not in the clear of the herd of walkers that they’d just narrowly escaped.

Following in suit behind Carol, his fingers felt the handle, finger it before claiming it in his hand and drawing his buck-knife in defense in case something lunged out at them. The quick smile and the sudden chirp of her voice drew his attention to the door that they were coming to. Taking several quick steps in front of her, Daryl made for the door knob, glancing over towards her before bringing his other free hand. Holding up three fingers, he began curling them back as he slowly counted down.

When he hit one, he threw open the door and hurried through first. There was a long growl and a moan that echoed from a corner as he heard a clatter of things falling to the ground. With swift feet carrying him forth, he sunk his knife deep into the temple of the walker that had knocked down several cans. It fell with a thud as Daryl bent down to wipe the gore from his knife. Eyes peeling around to see if there was any other threat lurking about, he saw nothing else and glanced over towards Carol ensuring that she was fine.

Puffing out his cheeks at the surge of adrenaline, he bobbed his head a little before grabbing at the arms of the walker and dragging it out of their path and to the corner of the storage room. “Reckon we might find what we’re lookin’ fer here.” He remarked pulling out a flashlight from his backpack and flicking it about.

Carol’s POV:

Carol would have been annoyed at anyone else for getting between her and her intended destination, but she couldn’t help but find it endearing. It made her feel special even though deep down in her heart, she knew he would put himself between any one of them and danger. She pursed her lips and gave a slight shake of her head. She knew it had nothing to do with the lack in faith of her own ability. It was just the kind of man that Daryl Dixon was. And it only made her love him more. 

She watched as it felt like an eternity as his fingers slowly ticked down to none, and he wrenched the door open. He was a blur of motion as his knife sunk deep into the temple of the walker that was inside. She heard the clatter of cans as they scattered on the chipped tiled floor at their feet. It made her grip her knife tighter in her fist. She squinted trying to make out if there was anything else lurking in the dark.

She saw the slim line of the beam of his flashlight as he flicked it on and panned it around the room. She wrinkled her nose at the stale, musty smell of death that assaulted her senses. She pulled her shirt up over her nose and breathed that way for a few breaths before worming her way in beside him. She wished she had her own flashlight, but it was what it was. 

“Think you might be right…” She bent down, reaching for a bottle of what she hoped was an unopened bottle of water and smiled when she moved it into the flashlight beam. She pushed it at him. “Here. I think there might be a few more if you want to shine the light this way.” She bent low again, still holding the bottle out for him to take as she tried to make out what else was stacked on the floor.

The smell wasn’t quite as strong now, and she let her shirt drop and tried to focus more on supplies than she did about how uncomfortable the darkness of the room made her. She did better in closed in spaces now than she would have at the start of all this mess, but small spaces and the dark were still hard. Especially after being trapped in that rest area bathroom all night.

She pushed her knife back into the sheath as he took the bottle of water and she managed to find her own. Twisting off the cap, she took several long drinks of water before she lowered it and relaxed a bit. Now gasoline would be their only cause for fear they’d not make it back to the prison, but she couldn’t help but hold on to that little bit of hope that there would just enough.

“There might be enough stuff here to make a trip back once we hit a bigger cache of gasoline.” When they didn’t have to worry so much about running out, she thought quickly. “Pretty sure we can’t fit much into our bags. They might just slow us down if we carried too much.” She stood again, touching his arm with her fingers lightly, stroking her thumb across his sweaty skin.


	51. Chapter 51

Daryl’s POV:

If there had been no water to be had in the entire building, Daryl wouldn’t have put it past it being plain dumb luck that they came to the one dilapidated gas station that had been picked clean of any remnants of survival. What sliver of hope lingered in either one of their bodies seemed to help them in that moment when Carol bent down to pick up a bottle. When it’s contents was clear and the label neatly printed on it read Bottled Water, he felt a wash of relief run its way down his back and settle in his toes. A low sigh fell from his lips and the severe slouch in his posture straightened up.

Despite his inclination to allow her first drink of their find, he knew better than to challenge Carol and took the bottle anyway. He didn’t unscrew the cap and take a drink until he knew Carol had found her own. With the shiny plastic flickering under the beam of his flashlight in her hand, Daryl removed the cap and took several long drinks, dribbles of the liquid running down his chin. He wiped at his mouth lazily before letting out a contented gasp having chugged half the bottle in a few seconds. He immediately felt a little foolish with his lack of will power to keep from burning through the bottle right then and there.

It was a necessity.

If they didn’t have water they’d die long before walkers got to them— most likely. But Daryl didn’t want to dare test that theory.

At the mention of filling their bags with what they could, Daryl shook his head absently at all that they were finding. A lot of it was stuff to be found in a liquor store. Hard alcohol. Cigarettes. Cheap beer. And from what else he could strain to see in the dark, what appeared to be beef jerky and an arrangement of odd canned goods that likely never sold. “Naw, only good ‘bout all this ‘s the booze. Take a bottle. It’ll help fer whatever wounds ya get. Anythin’ higher than a 90 proof’ll do fine.” He muttered bending down to wave his flashlight over the multitude of bottles on a shelf.

Slipping his backpack from off his shoulders, he set it down before him and set carefully a small bottle of whiskey inside. His eyes skimmed around not finding much else of value before rethinking the beef-jerky packages. Taking hold of one, he eyed it carefully looking at the packaging for the expiration date— granted, he very much didn’t care, but it didn’t hurt to find something that wasn’t already stale. Tapping his finger on the date, he was sure they’d already passed the date of05/10/2012. Sighing to himself, he figured it wouldn’t be too terrible and shoved it in as well.

Straightening himself up, his fingers drummed along the water bottle waiting on Carol. “Find anythin’?” He asked in a low rumble trying to keep his voice down in case a walker happened to be milling about too close for comfort. The last thing they needed was to get trapped in the dark and no means of getting out like the last time. Unlike the last time, Daryl was sure he wouldn’t have an exit plan ready. “If ya can’t find nothin’ we gotta go.”

Carol’s POV:

Carol moved quickly around the room, ears on any sound that wasn’t either of them. She did the best she could with the light from his flashlight beam as her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She gave a slight shrug as he told her which alcohol to take. She wrinkled her nose. She hated the stuff more than most of the others. It had turned Ed into an ugly drunk more often than not, and one didn’t just forget the slurred words, misplaced fists, and angry words of someone under the influence no matter the passage of time.

She pulled a bottle from the shelf and brought it close to her face and managed to find the percentage on the bottle as she pulled her bag from her back and around to her front all the while keeping it on her shoulder. She unzipped it quickly and pushed it inside. “Think two bottles be enough?” She didn’t want her backpack weighted down with the stuff. It had a good medicinal value, but it lacked in everything else. She turned her back on the liquor, not waiting for his answer. 

She smiled and reached for the unopened box of Snickers bars. She held it up and gave it a little shake. “Think the kids will like these?” She knew that Carl would. He had a huge sweet tooth and anything chocolate was his weakness. “The chocolate’s probably stale, but I bet they won’t complain.” She thought of Mika and Lizzie and let the box drop into her bag and then zipped it up as she gave a final glance.

“Think that’s about all we got time for anyway. We need to get back.” She didn’t want to waste the rest of the day and be fighting the walkers and darkness all over again. They wouldn’t surely be as lucky this time around as they were last night. She took a step to the left, moving back to him. She tripped over a pallet that she hadn’t been able to see and fell against the shelf. “Son of a bitch,” she hissed as her knee connected hard against the metal corner. 

She managed to lean against the wall and bent over and tried to catch her breath. The pain made lights explode behind her eyes, but she didn’t feel any blood, so she knew she hadn’t torn anything or cut her skin. “Let’s just get out of here before one of us really gets hurt.” She pushed herself back up straight, testing her weight on her leg and was grateful for the darkness so he wasn’t able to really see her facial expressions. It hurt, but she wasn’t about to let it stop them.

“C’mon.”


	52. Chapter 52

Daryl’s POV:

Nodding his head as he bent down to examine a somewhat dented box, Daryl tentatively flipped the cardboard flaps open. “Sounds ‘bout right t’me.” He murmured not paying her much mind at the moment as he was quite curious about what was inside. He was sure it was likely some sort of supply that had never been opened before the chaos ensued and people fled, but it still sparked a curiosity that wouldn’t burn out until he found out whatever it was it contained.

When the flap awkwardly fell open and all he was greeted with was a box full of cartons of straws and other plastic utensils, he sighed inwardly before closing it up and standing back up, creak of joins popping through the permeable silence. Another false sliver of hope.

He hummed gently to her find of the chocolate as he turned to face Carol’s direction. A slight wrinkle found its way across his nose as he was not particularly fond of the sweets. And it really wasn’t that he wasn’t fond of it, milk chocolate simply was not something he liked. The dark chocolate was bar none better in his opinion with its bitter sweetness, but this was something he didn’t care to voice aloud as he knew it wasn’t common.

“Don’t matter if it’s bad. Candy is candy. They ain’t gon’ care ‘bout it once they see them wrappers an’ know what it is.” He mumbled glancing over to where she stood with the box in hand as he waved the beam of his flashlight in her direction.

The sudden dismissal of sifting around a bit longer gave him a new set of directions as he turned to leave back the way they had come. The sharp hiss of her voice and the slew of cussing that came thereafter had him pausing mid-step hearing the loud thudding sound. Drawing a brow up he moved back towards where he could see her crouched down nursing the pain. “You gon’ be fine? ‘r am I gon’ have t’haul yer ass outta here?” He inquired to her current injury feeling a sudden pang of urgency jolt through his bones.

When she gave him a sharp rebuttal, Daryl simply shrugged his shoulders not responding to her command. Noticing the slight ease of weight onto her leg, he sighed lightly before swiftly pulling in front of her. If something lunged at them, she wasn’t going to be ready for it. His hand may have been injured the night before, but he was sure of his capability to overlook the pain. With a leg injury even if it were slight, he knew that it could ultimately be a death sentence as sooner or later they’d have to run.

Leading the way back the way they had come, he kept his ears open for any change in sounds from before. Everything seemed remotely desolate beside the occasional groan of the building with its creaky doors and loose hinges. Peering out the front door and seeing nothing, Daryl pushed it open stepping out, waiting for Carol to follow after.

Carol’s POV:

Carol’s eyes stung with tears. She bitterly bit them back and blinked her eyes rapidly to rid herself of them, but one had managed a trek down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away. She ignored him when he questioned her again. She wasn’t about to let him carry her out of her. She’d had that happen once before, and she was going to carry her own weight from here on out. No matter the shape her leg was in.

When he finally turned and headed toward the door, she gingerly took a step and was careful to not keep her full weight on her knee for very long at a time. With each step, it wasn’t as bad as the one before it. She gritted her teeth as she caught up to him just as he reached the door that lead back to the main section of the gas station. 

Following him out, she let her eyes adjust as it was brighter out here than it had been inside. She blinked again. “Let’s get that gas. Think I got enough hose for it to be cut in two pieces and there was some jugs around the side that I saw. Could get it done quicker if we’re both trying, don’t you think?”

She pulled the hose free from where she had hooked it through her belt loop before heading into the storage room with him. She pulled her knife free once again, measuring the hose and slicing it easily and handed him half of it. Their fingers brushed together lightly. Her heart skipped a beat as she met his eyes. 

“Five minutes? Then we’ll go with whatever we’ve managed to get?”


	53. Chapter 53

Daryl’s POV:

When they finally stepped out into the bright daylight of the outside world, Daryl raised his hand up to shield his eyes. Squinting harshly as he tried to blink out the garish light, he drew his attention to the ground hastily adjusting. Grunting in acknowledgment at her suggestion, he slipped his crossbow from off his shoulder and held it at the ready, cautiously following alongside Carol.

His head pivoted about his shoulders keeping a constant watch as she readied a bit of hose for the both of them to siphon out some gas from any of the cars. If he was being hopeful one of the cars had something they could take, but that was slim. As he waited his mind began rifling through old knowledge his Daddy had passed onto him. Vaguely he remembered a method of siphoning gas that required two hoses and a rag. His head dropped to the red grease rag dangling from his back pocket and then back over to Carol.

Taking his half of the hose his eyes glossed over the area searching for the remaining bit she hadn’t taken. Giving her another nod at the five-minute interval of time before they regrouped, Daryl headed off in the direction that he’d seen her fiddling about before. Finding the length of hose she hadn’t taken, he set his crossbow down and snapped a piece off with his buck-knife.

He didn’t care how much length he needed. It just needed to be enough for him to manage this iteration. He snatched up one of the jugs she’d mentioned pausing a moment to pick out a car. With his two pieces in hand, he made his way over to the first car. Prying open the gas cap, he stuck both hoses into the tank. Pulling the rag from his pocket, he wound it about the hoses shoving it good and tight at the tank mouth.

Maneuvering the longer hose into the gas jug, he set both feet on each side of the jug to keep it from moving so nothing spilled. Taking the smaller hose, he wrapped his hand around the end of it and blew a hard gust of air into it. Daryl took his lips away from the opening letting his eyes settle on the jug. Insides twisting about in his gut as he waited— hoping that even just a little bit could be had.

Carol’s POV:

Carol kept one eye on her surroundings and one eye on the task at hand. She narrowed her eyes as she figured out that only one of the cars she checked had a bit of gas. She managed to get the hose in and the gas trickling out of the hose without sucking any of the contents into her mouth. She frowned when barely three inches was filled into the gas jug. 

Better than nothing. She gave a shrug, moving toward the last car. Five minutes was about up. The gas tank was tapped. She frowned, not bothering to return the cap and close the door. Those were old dead habits. She picked up her jug, tossing her hose aside.

She made short work of the distance between herself and Daryl. She shook her jug. “It’s not much, but I think it’ll get us somewhere.” At least closer to the prison. She set it down beside her feet. She swiped at a bug that landed on her arm. “Any luck?” 

She cocked her hip, placing her hand there. She kept her eyes on their surroundings and only briefly let them fall on him. She narrowed her eyes. She felt the pack on her back shift, so she slowly let it fall to the ground. “This was a pretty good stop, don’t you think?” 

It was a safe one, at least. And these days that mattered almost as much as a profitable one. Another bug buzzed around her ear. She swatted at it. “Damn gnats. They were bad back over that way. Must be some stagnated water close by.”


	54. Chapter 54

Daryl’s POV:

The scuffing of her boots along the pavement had his head snapping up to where she was coming from. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Daryl went back to resuming the last bit of siphoning he was doing. Most tanks he had come across had small dribbles of gas left over and even just a bit was good enough. More or less Daryl was just grateful that the motorcycle didn’t require much gas, which made it exceptionally good on gas mileage.

Managing to snag a few more drops from out of the last tank he had been working on, he squinted a little from the harsh glare of day as Carol approached. “Did fine ‘nough. You?” He asked but was greeted with the heavy sloshing of gas in the jug she lugged with her.

Nodding in approval Daryl removed his last bit of hoses and set them atop the trunk of the car. He paused a moment to assess whether he wanted to leave them elsewhere but figured maybe some other poor bastard that happened upon them would need them for their own future travels. Leaving them where they were, he took the jug of gas and made his way back to his motorcycle.

“Mos’ likely,” he muttered swatting at his own forearm when he felt the incessant buzzing of one of the gnats hovering about his skin. Beckoning for Carol to follow, he kept a steady pace, eyes and ears alert for any sudden noise.

Carefully he made his way over towards the motorcycle, unscrewing the cap to the gas tank setting the jug atop the seat. “C’mon, let’s make this quick.” Tilting the mouth of the jug nearest the lip of the tank, Daryl began to pour the gas, drawing it back when he felt he may spill what precious fuel they had. “Watch m’back.”

Carol’s POV:

“That’s unspoken ain’t it? I mean, at this point, you either trust me to do what I gotta do or you don’t…” She was mostly ribbing him, trying to make light of their situation. She didn’t like it anymore than he did, but she wasn’t going to let it get the best of her either. She turned her back on him, making sure that nothing and no one was approaching from any direction. Her eyes squinted against the sunlight. 

She just wanted the next leg of their journey to be over and done. She wanted the awkwardness that would sure follow when they drove through those prison gates. It weighed heavily on her mind that Rick had informed the others of what she had done. And if he hadn’t, she had to make the decision to do so herself or let Daryl and the others bury it. 

She still favored her knee as it was still throbbing some, but she could walk well enough and that was all that mattered to her. She let her head snap around at the sound of a twig snapping off to their left. She went instantly for the gun tucked into her pants and unsheathed the knife on her hip. 

Her eyes scanned the treeline. When the undead didn’t rush forth, she relaxed a bit. Probably another animal looking for something to eat. But she kept both the knife and gun ready. She couldn’t take the chance and be caught off guard. 

“How’s it looking?” She moved to the opposite side of the motorcycle. “That’ll get us back home, right?” She had hoped that it would. They were running out of places to check for gasoline. Pretty soon the supply runs would be pushed further out to scout territory that was miles from their home. They were just about tapping everything else out. 

There was a snapping of another twig, and her head whipped around just as a lone walker stumbled free from the brush that had been holding him in place. Or what was left of him. “I got him.” She stepped quickly, moving her arm up swiftly and taking the walker out with one blow. She felt the blood splatter against her face. The smell just about turned her stomach. She guessed that was something that she would never get used to no matter what. She rolled the body away from her before quickly making her way back to Daryl and the bike.

She tapped her foot impatiently. She hoped they were almost done here. She didn’t like sitting still for very long out in the open.


	55. Chapter 55

Daryl’s POV: 

He sighed as he went to fill his tank up with what little gas they could muster. It was a decent amount for what they were scrounging up and enough that they could make it to the prison and back again if need be. It was a relief and then some when they had come across the gas to begin with. Daryl hadn’t been wagering to find anything— not really. Maybe a few drops. Maybe just enough to get on by down the highway for another 20 minutes, but they had got lucky.

But Daryl knew that with any sort of luck it eventually just ran out.

He didn’t answer to her teasing. Simply continued on with the task at hand. Couldn’t afford to spill what precious fuel they had found. Something like this was always something worth battering for. Sometimes people found it worth dying for if found by the wrong sort and again, so far, they were lucky in that regard. Survivors were not plentiful. Scarce as they were it did not rule out how dangerous they could be at times.

At the sudden question posed to him, Daryl paused in his task and looked up at Carol. Gave her a nod and resumed pouring the last bit of fuel from the canister. “Jus’ ‘bout ready,” he muttered low tipping the nozzle up so he could drain every last bit of gasoline. In the back of his mind he could hear Merle muttering to him to take every last little drop. It would be a long while before they found more lest he leave the motorcycle behind. There was a sudden churning in his stomach and it bothered him that that could ever be an option. This was all he had left of his brother and it was something that they had both worked on together when they were young.

It was the snarl and hiss of a walker that came lumbering out of the thick brush nearby that snapped him back from his inner musings. Daryl felt a sudden rush of urgency sweep over him when he saw it shambling forth. Carol seemed to be unfazed as she made her way over and slipped her knife into its skull. He didn’t pay much more attention to her actions after that until the footfalls of her boots echoed in his direction and the not so subtle tap of them against the asphalt.

“Hold yer horses,” he hissed angling his head over his shoulder to shoot her a terse look. Her fidgeting hadn’t gone unnoticed and it was slowly getting on his nerves.

When he had about finished, Daryl shook the can hearing nothing but emptiness and set it down climbing onto the seat of the motorcycle. “Well git on.” He replied thickly turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life and his foot swiftly threw up the kickstand waiting for Carol to clamber on. He could feel the bike lurch forward a bit, quickly letting off on the throttle and letting it idle in neutral a moment longer before kicking it up into first as they began to putter on down the road.

Carol’s POV:

Carol had seen the look in his eyes. She’d known that her constant kidding around and then her impatience was wearing on his already frazzled nerves. She made herself as still as she could until he finished his task. When he climbed onto the bike, she was quick to follow suit and was halfway on when he started to nag at her about hurrying up. She gripped hips for a second as she got her ass planted in the right position then she slid closer to him.

Then her arms went around his waist, not giving a damn if he was uncomfortable with her doing so or not. She needed the comfort of being close to another human. And she didn’t give a damn if he was a willing participant or not. She was about to enter the lion’s den, and this might be her last chance at getting any sort of comfort. Even if it was one-sided.

She laid her cheek against his back, keeping the wind out of her face. She swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat. It was pointless to even try and talk over the wind. And it was distracting for him as well, and she knew that it wasn’t what he liked. So she kept it inside.

She couldn’t stop the shivering though. It wasn’t her fault. Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she felt that she might lose it. She tried to push it down and remain strong. He had done so much for her, and here she was was acting like this? She closed her eyes tight, begging herself to get a grip.

Finally, the nerves were just too much. They were at least over half way back to the prison at this point. She lifted her head, putting her mouth close to his ear. “Please pull over. Stop. I’m going to be sick.” Her stomach lurched then, threatening to betray her and be sick all over the back of him.


	56. Chapter 56

Daryl’s POV:

As they traveled along the road for several minutes, it was done in complete silence. He didn’t mind that she was clinging to him like a second skin. She’d be a damned fool not to with there being a lack of helmets to be had and no real doctors on hand in case something were to happen. But the warmth at his back was soothing as they continued on dipping around bends in the road and the occasional car or drifting tumbleweed that came bouncing along.

In the back of Daryl’s mind he was wordlessly preparing himself for their next hurdle. There was still the unsurety of it all. The distinct finality in what Rick had said had ended on a sour note between them, but Daryl hadn’t cared about repercussions. It hadn’t been his call to make to decide her fate. There was a need for order. There had to be or else things simply fell apart and then what was there to follow?

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared. Fearful of what might happen. He hadn’t known Tyreese long, but he could only assume from the way he had reacted to finding out what had happened to Karen and David that their calm discussion wasn’t likely to go off without a hitch. There would be a scuffle of it. He was sure. There had been no telling what he would do when he found out, but with that amount of strength behind such a man— conviction was a brutal thing.

Immediately his brow began to furrow when he felt the sudden tremor raking through Carol’s body and he heard her voice at his ear. Without much a second thought, Daryl looked for a set of trees off the side of the road and came to a crawl off the road and down a beaten path. “Wait ‘till I’m stopped,” he warned as they finally rolled behind a wooded area— away from prying eyes.

Killing the engine, he flatfooted the motorcycle as he felt it lurch and the warmth behind him disappear. Placating his hands to rest at his thighs, Daryl turned around to cast a rather concerned look in her direction. “You alrigh’?” He asked arching a brow up at the sudden need to stop.

Carol’s POV:

Carol’s hands were shaking now. The bile rose in her throat, threatening to betray her. She slid off the bike on shaking legs once it came to a complete stop. She turned her back to him, bending at the waist as she placed her hands on her knees. She took several deep breaths, trying to fight off the urge to be sick. But the heaviness in her stomach won out, and she purged it from her body. The water and stomach acid were enough to leave a dry, sickening taste in her mouth. 

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and then tested standing up straight. She shook her head at his question and managed a quiet, “No. I’m scared to death.” The deaths of their friends at her hands was ever present in her mind. Tyreese was a big man. One in which she didn’t want to tangle with, but she wanted desperately to go home. She needed to. Even if they sentenced her to death, or exile once again. At least this time it would be the right way.

She turned to fully face him now, tears pricking her eyes. They were hot and stung as one escaped down her cheek. She lifted her hand, brushing it away. Her lips pressed together tightly. “But I want to go home. I need to go home.” She stepped toward the motorcycle. She paused beside him, touching his shoulder with a sad smile. 

“You’ve done all you can for me at this point, and I’m grateful for everything, Daryl. I mean that, really.” She moved her hand down his arm, resting her fingers over his and finally tangling them together as she gave a slight squeeze. “I would have never had the guts to come back on my own, but I’m ready to face what’s to come. Because of you…” The last part was a whispered confession that she wasn’t sure she was ready for him to hear, but it was out there now, and she couldn’t take it back.

She leaned in slowly, kissing his cheek and then let her fingers slide from his. She slipped onto the back of the bike, wrapping herself around him almost as tightly as before.


	57. Chapter 57

Daryl’s POV: 

When he noticed the way she was hunched over breathing heavily with her hands placated at her knees, Daryl found himself kicking out the stand and giving the handlebars a good turn, before climbing off the seat and over to where Carol was. The sound of her upchucking onto the ground where she stood caused a wrinkle to wind its way across his nose. It wasn’t that he was disgusted by the act, it was the retching sound that got to him and he felt bad somewhat that a lot of this was spurred on because of his own selfish need for justification for her actions.

Looking down at his back pocket as she tried righting herself in a standing position, he pulled at the worn grease rag and held it out to her. “Here,” he muttered offering it out so she could clean herself somewhat.

Her words confirmed what he had already knew was the reason behind it. That was clear enough. He was surprised mostly that she had held out for as long as she had without having a complete meltdown. There was no real idea as far as knowing was concerned— Tyreese was unpredictable. Daryl hadn’t planned to have the man reel on him the way he had, pinning him against the wall when they’d all found the bodies burned to nothing. The man had enough force, he was sure, to choke him out with a single hand. That thrust when he had found himself pressed against the bars had scared him shitless. He had been at his mercy and had only gotten the brunt of the beat down that would have been for him had Rick not interfered like he had.

As she spoke and slowly turned to face him, Daryl was greeted with those bright eyes, corners brimmed with tears. Absently as she removed one stray one that had come loose, he thumbed the roughened pads of his fingers across her face, ridding her cheeks of the excess tears. “I know,” he muttered softly in his gruff voice the best he could to somehow soothe her nerves.

Dropping his hands from her face, he watched as she moved towards the motorcycle waiting on him to climb back on. Her hand came to settle at his shoulder and he glanced down at the small frail hand there as she began to speak. Working his jaw slowly as he clung to each word, he gave a short nod before feeling his cheeks go flush at the brush of her lips against the scratchy stubble of his jaw.

Climbing on without much more being exchanged, he felt the warmth of her arms about his middle once more as he swept the kickstand back and started up the motorcycle once more. He gave Carol’s arm a gentle squeeze before they took off and back onto the road headed for the prison.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Carol’s POV:

Carol wasn’t so sure that it would be okay. She had no idea what her fate would be once they crossed the prison’s threshold, and she couldn’t and didn’t expect for Daryl to have to put himself between herself and the others. In fact, it was something she wouldn’t allow. She’d done an awful thing. And yes, it had been for the good of group that spurred her actions, but she still felt sick about it. She felt so many different things, but she’d own what she did. She had to. It was how society worked.

She laid her forehead between his shoulder blades, trying desperately for her emotions to settle down so that she could at least appear to be holding herself together. It would never do good to let the others see her like this. Daryl, she trusted herself with. She knew that he didn’t and wouldn’t judge her based on her outburst of nerves, but the others she wasn’t so sure.

She hadn’t ever expected Rick to turn her out, but he had. And the realization that he’d expected her death out there was still fresh on her mind. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him or blame him. He had two children to look after and to make sure they did right by the others around them. And that was something she would always respect.

She lifted her head after a mile or two back on the road and laid her chin on his shoulder and moved her mouth close to his ear. “Thank you for everything, Daryl. You’ve been my everything through all this, and I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”


	58. Chapter 58

Daryl’s POV: 

As the motorcycle sped away down the lonesome road, Daryl’s mind went to thinking. Wondering what would away them once the gates were drawn back and his friends saw whom he came riding back with. As far as he knew, Rick was the only one aware of what had happened. Whether or not the others put two and two together was up to their own discretion, but it was a can of worms waiting to be opened once they all would settle down at the council table stewing over the prior events.

He felt the pressure of her at the middle of his back where she was huddled against. She was strong. He knew that better than most people gave her credit for. Daryl could only hope that strength played a role when they finally got all the council members together to discuss what was to become of her. The words that came stifled down by the wind as they continued on down the road gave him some ease of mind, but it could only do to give him so much before it flickered out.

Daryl didn’t say anything. He gave Carol his silent nod keeping his eyes trained on the road as he dipped around the fallen bodies and abandoned vehicles left behind.

In the distance, he could see the pointed roof of the guard tower just barely creeping out atop the crop of trees. They were only moments away from entering the prison. It was do or die now.

The wheel hit the gravel he felt his breath hitch in his chest as it was only mere seconds away on down the road. The gates clinked as they swung open, Maggie and Glenn already pulling at the chain of the pulley before letting go as it released back into its shut position. Idling for a moment, before the actual chain link fence was drawn back, Daryl reached down gently touching where Carol’s hands were wrapped about his middle.

Taking off before the questioning could begin, his foot let off the ground and he was back into first gear hauling itself up the path and back to the prison yard. Finally making it back to the main block area, he came to a slow crawl and killed the engine turning the handlebars a bit as he swept his foot back to bring the kickstand forward. Waiting on Carol to clamber off, he swung his leg over and stood on both legs looking over to the silver-haired woman. “C’mon, we got some explainin’ t’do,” he replied gesturing for her to follow along.

Taking a deep breath, he led her along towards the block area— back home.

[THE END]

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let us know what you thought! Cheers!


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